


A Matter of Perspective

by alicy_sunberg33



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cooking, Inquisition spoilers, Multi, Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, Sign Language, custom inquisitor, lots of cooking, mishmash inquisitor, mute Inquisitor, pipe smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicy_sunberg33/pseuds/alicy_sunberg33
Summary: The way people around Inquisitor Ashera Haveloch see her, judge her, approve or disapprove of her. And observe the way she carries on regardless.This is a custom made Inquisitor, a mishmash of several ideas that have been tormenting me for a while. Ash is mute, so she speaks through signs or whispers or through her dwarven sister. Basically, she's kind of scary but she likes to cook and smoke, and laugh silently.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I felt the need to write about. You can pretty much do anything you want with your Inquisitor's origin. I hope it doesn't put you off too much. 
> 
> Have a good read! Just enjoy! I'd like to show you this character if you don't mind.
> 
> If you see mistakes or sentences that feel off, please tell me, English isn't my native language and I don't have a beta for this. :)

## 1 : Introduction

First off, one of the things you must understand about Inquisitor Haveloch is that she doesn't talk. Or more precisely, she's unable to. If you're lucky and see her take off her colored scarf, you will notice a deep old scar barring her throat. She can produce some words, but only by pressing her hand on her vocal cords, and it is not a gracious sound. She almost never proceeds that way, but one can wonder if she doesn't use it more out of courtesy for the others than for her own comfort. 

She uses the sign language created by the Silent Sisters of Orzammar, who cut their tongues to honor the Paragon Hastith the Grey. Most of her entourage is now fluent in understanding and using her signs, and the Inquisition staff around her know at least the most basic gestures. 

But even with that, an observant person would guess that even if she could talk, she would be a woman of few words. Or in her case, of few gestures. She's much more content with just watching from afar. 

She's tall and thin, hair brown, cut in an uneven way, left side longer than the right side, bangs sometimes falling on her eyes, adding to her mystery, and thick lips that form a perpetual enigmatic smile. The left side of her face is covered in scars, some older than others, and they are known to be acquired in battle. Her eyes are of an eerie orange color, that is said to almost glow in the darkness. She smokes the pipe, and likes to hang out in the kitchens. 

If you ask the staff how they were able to understand her at first, they would tell you that she used to write on a small notebook, that she needed to replace with new ones fairly quickly, and that her expressions, looks, and gestures were simple enough to get. And also, she didn't ask for much. But mostly, Lady Cadash was doing the translating. 

Zajdi Cadash is her Voice, her Interpreter. It is rare to see the two women separated from each other. At first, Inquisitor Haveloch was known as Cadash as well, because she was adopted by the dwarven family some ten years ago. She dissociated herself with this family only recently, when her origins were found and confirmed. 

But that is another story for another time. 

The kitchen are where she likes to spend her days when in Skyhold. She cooks. A lot, and when there is a feast, she's the one setting up the menu, when she doesn't cook it herself. 

This shows her willingness to stay in the dark rather than shine under the light of the world. But she is a woman of action as well. 

Her weapons tell a lot about the way she fights. She has a small throwing axe in the left hand and a wicked Qunari blade in the right. This blade she calls Kukri. The handle is flat and wrapped tightly in a red leather thread, there is a main blade, that divides itself in two branches, one is smaller, just at the beginning of the handle, the other is wide and sharp, curved, giving the weapon the shape of a malformed sickle. The surface of the metal is carved with complex decorations, which is not per se the way Qunaris forge their blades. 

Former Ben-Hassrath, Iron Bull, says that he saw Fog Warriors use this kind of blades in Seheron. It can be used both as a throwing weapon and as a sickle. But the wicked shape of it as she releases it from the rope on her back is enough to intimidate. Some say that she was able to decapitate someone with enough momentum with it. She's a rogue but she goes into the thick of things, unafraid of the blood, the pain, like a silent beast, ruthless, unforgiving until the end of the fight. 

For now that is all you need to know about Inquisitor Haveloch. 

You may find her intimidating at first, with her scars, her sinister smile and her uncanny orange eyes, but she still managed to save us in mean times. And in those times, we couldn't wish for more.


	2. Meeting : Cassandra

## 2 : Meeting : Cassandra

She was done waiting. She only listened to Leliana's briefing with one ear. She was stomping down the stairs to the cells and was ready to demand answers. 

Leliana seemed to understand quickly that no informations would filter past her determination, and she barely heard her sigh. 

"Let's hear what she has to say, first," she said with finality. "But Cassandra, we will need something for her to write on."

"What do you mean? Has she been hurt?" Cassandra didn't stop but she gave a look to the spy mistress behind her shoulder, intrigued. 

"More or less. When Solas examined her, he found a large old wound across her throat. He said that with such a scar, it's a miracle she's even alive today. He concluded she could probably not produce many sounds, if at all."

"Then we will simply make sure she can answer to our questions with a nod. This will not stop me from having answers."

"Of course." 

She was sitting with her legs crossed in the middle of the cell. She was looking at her left hand as if she was seeing it for the first time. Her brown hair was messy, one side longer than the other, bangs falling on her orange eyes, her limbs thin but muscular, proof of a consequent amount of training, her leather armor was dirty, and she looked like she hadn't slept during the night when she just woke from a two-night long coma. 

She looked up to see the women arrive and the guards saluting them when they entered. Cassandra unsheathed her sword and pointed it towards her. She merely frowned. 

"You. Will have to try very hard to convince me that I mustn't kill you right this instant," Cassandra growled. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

She frowned at her, more out of annoyance than confusion, she looked almost offended. She signed something with her hand, but seemed to remember no one seemed to understand and rolled her eyes. She raised her manacled hands and pressed her hand to her covered throat. The sound that went out of her mouth was harsh, raspy, it sounded like the breath of a dying man. It was unsettling.

" _Who...? Where...?_ "

"Who am I matters not, and you can already guess where you are, I'm sure."

The prisoner considered her with annoyance and shook her hands up in a way to say that she still waited for explanations, and that none of this was obvious for her. Well. Seemed like they were on the same boat then.

"How did you have this thing on your hand?" Cassandra questioned, lowering the sword she had unsheathed. 

She gazed at her hand one more time as it crackled in her palm, both horrified and mesmerized. She looked up at Cassandra in confusion and shook her head.

"You don't know, is that it?" she glowered when she made a face.

Cassandra scowled then raised her sword to her throat.

"You're lying!!"

"Cassandra," Leliana called out behind her. "We need her."

She scoffed and turned away to avoid doing something she might regret later. When she calmed down, she looked at the woman again. She answered her look with a frown, but her face was overall unimpressed. Clearly the sword did not intimidate her. She seemed to be waiting and gestured towards her with her chin and then a look to Leliana in an inquisitive way. _What now?_

"Do you remember what happened?" Leliana asked, almost begged. "How this came to be?"

She frowned then... seemed to remember something indeed. Started gesturing. Groaned when no one could understand, frustration, confusion and annoyance clear on her scarred face. She mimicked writing with her hand, and thankfully, Leliana produced a small notebook and a charcoal piece that the prisoner used painfully, flattening the book on the cold stone floor on the cell and scribbling as best she could with the piece. Leliana knelt with Cassandra when she showed what she wrote

_I don't know where this comes from. I remember I was running away from something. And a woman helped me._

"A woman?"

She frowned again, trying to think, then shook her head in resignation. Cassandra saw that her stoicism was falling apart for just a moment. She shrugged her hands again, clearly meaning she didn't know.

Well. Looked like that was all for nothing. Nevertheless, she would insist later on. Perhaps she wasn't guilty, just responsible. Or perhaps the shock of the explosion just made her lose her memories. Or perhaps it was all a very good act.

But suddenly, in the middle of her anger, frustration and desperation, Cassandra didn't believe it. Her guts were telling her... this was too easy. 

Then again, maybe the sight of what the prisoner had provoked would encourage her to tell more. 

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the breach."

Leliana gave a small sigh then folded the notebook and put it in the front pocket of the prisoner's winter coat, with the charcoal pencil. The woman gave her a slight nod as thanks and Cassandra got her up on her feet in one swift movement.

They switched her manacles for a simple but tightly knotted rope. She didn't seem to complain, she looked as equally bothered, which wasn't saying much. Cassandra had to admit she had some mettle. Or she did not care at all. She didn't know what would annoy her most.

The woman tapped on her forearm, and shook her palms in front of her, confusion and annoyance still on her face. She showed wide eyes and a frown. She wanted an explanation. She truly had no idea, did she?

"It will be easier to show you," she sighed, her fatigue finally showing under her harshness.

She held her arm and helped her up the stairs to the Chantry, feeling her legs shaking after sitting in the cold and darkness for so long. They went through the hall, Cassandra ignoring the looks of the refugees and sisters looking at the woman with disgust and anger. The woman merely raised an eyebrow, but still seemed surprised. 

Maybe the look of less polite people outside would give her a more pronounced reaction. No matter. This was not about the look of the others. Or at least that was what Cassandra was telling herself. 

They went out, facing the sun, the wind, the cold. And something else. The look on the prisoner's face was a mix of many emotions. Cassandra recognized many, for she felt them herself. Horror. Incredulity. Amazement. Disgust. Shock. The only absent emotion from her face that was different from her was grief. It seemed she lost no one of importance in the Conclave. Perhaps she did not care for the Divine of Thedas that just died. Or did she not remember that she was present? 

Cassandra ignored the biting pain throbbing in her heart. Pushed it away. Locked it down. She would release it later. Though she didn't know when that "later" would come. But now was not the time. 

She saw the prisoner signed and mouth something at the same time she recognized quite well.

_What the fuck._

Well. Now she knew her signs for the expression. That was a kind of progress, Cassandra observed while looking at the breach. It had been two days and the sight of it was still unsettling, and for good reasons. But she was passed the shock. Now when she looked up to see the hole in the sky, she felt like she wanted to vomit. She heard that dwarves that started to live out in the Surface were afraid to fall in the open sky. The absurdity of this feeling made her chuckle once. Now she understood it quite well. 

"We call it the breach," she elaborated for the new comer. Because this expression, no liar could produce it as accurately as she did. Clearly she did not expect to see this when she got out of the building. "It's a massive rift that opens into the world of demons and grow larger and larger with each passing hour. It's not the only one, just the largest. It appeared after the explosion of the Conclave."

She turned to her sharply and looked at her with incredulity, one eyebrow raised and pointed at the breach in disbelief. _An explosion did that?_

"At least, we know this much : it originated from the explosion," Cassandra assured. "Unless we act, the breach will grow until it swallows the world."

She stared at her as if she just told the most ridiculous and absurd joke she'd ever heard. She started to sign something when the mark flared and crackled in her hand and she fell on her knees. Her cry was a heavy, raspy breath, almost a dry cough, but she did not seemed to care about that. She was grasping harshly at her left wrist while the green light in her palm was spewing sparks and behind the leather glove, Cassandra could see the famous green cracks across her hand. Those cracks were not here two days ago. It was bewitching. And terrifying. 

Cassandra knelt in front of her and waited for her to breath more normally before saying the hardest part. Well. Hardest for the prisoner. For her, it was another argument to give in order to have her cooperation. And she was pretty sure it would be a good one.

"Each time the breach spreads, so does your mark... and it is killing you. It may be the key for stopping this, but we don't have much of a choice." 

She looked like she wanted to tear her hand off her very arm. She could understand why she would. She clenched her teeth and it seemed like the pain was more bearable, as she let out a breathy laugh, and held up her left hand, facing the horror that just sprang out of it, her smile was ugly with bitterness and pain. Sweat was pearling on her forehead and rolling down on her cheek. But she was quick to dry it with a brush of her attached wrists, she clenched and unclenched the marked hand. Then she took out the notebook and held it open with a trembling hand while she twisted her wrist to write on it with her hand. She showed her what she wrote.

_You still believe I would do this to myself?_

Still looking at her, Cassandra sighed :

"At least it doesn't look like it was intentional. Something clearly went wrong."

Her eyebrows shot up and she made a face while gesturing her palms towards herself then shaking them up in front of her, as if showing something that was obvious. _Well then?!_

"Someone is responsible. And right now you are our only suspect. You wish to prove you are innocent? Help us close that thing."

She pointed a determined finger towards the hole in the sky. She followed it and glared at the thing. She got up on her legs, without the help of her hands. She was getting better. Or she was being fed up with being pulled on all sides by the others. Or both. She showed her the mark then pointed the breach and shrugged her hands up in question. _And that thing will work on the big one?_

"We shall see if it works shortly. It is our only chance however. And yours."

She scoffed and looked up the sky with a bitter smile. 

She wrote again on her notebook.

_If I do what you want, will I live through it?_

Cassandra shrugged :

"We have no way of knowing for sure."

She gave a breathy laugh and raised her tied hands up in resignation. She snapped closed her notebook and put it away with her pencil in her pocket. She stretched her arms, touched her toes with her palms, showing her flexibility. She took a deep breath, letting the cold and fresh air in her limbs, sighed of relief, clapped her hands, and with a simple gesture and a nod, asked her to show the way.

Cassandra felt her mouth curve into a smile, though it was brief.

"That's the spirit


	3. Meeting : Varric

## 3 : Meeting : Varric

He had to admit, he could think of better ways to spend his day than shooting demons spewing out of green magical doorways up in the mountains, with all the uneven rocky floor in the damn world. But looking back at it, between two bolts going through a Terror's head, and one pushing back a Shade, was it truly that unexpected? 

I mean, sure, we're talking about a fucking hole in the sky! That's pretty high up on the ladder of unexpected things. But honestly, he'd seen a lot of unexpected things, and they were all unexpected in their weird kind of way. But they were just as horrible. Fortunately, just as it was back then, Bianca was the best company to have in those times. 

All in all, Varric was having a great day. And when he heard a female bellowing shout behind him, he rolled his eyes, because it was about to get even better!

Just perfect.

Though when he expected to see the Seeker jump into the fray and smash away any demon on her path with her shield like a maniac, the second before, he saw a shadow pass almost above him. A thin, tall silhouette, grasping two daggers, with a glowing green palm, horribly similar to the damn hole in the sky.

She -because it was a she alright- leaped next to Chuckles, killed a Wraith that was pestering him with a double stab in its strange unreal body. She ran through it, embracing its smoke and became for a second, a sight similar to the demons, green steam coming out of her skin, an ugly grin on her face, black blood splattered on her coat and hands, brown hair moving in every direction, and yellow orange eyes glinting in the darkness of her silhouette like a monster straight out of a fairy tale. 

...

He needed to store that for later. If only they weren't in the middle of a fight, he'd start writing that thought down, right in the snow. 

"MOVE!"

He heard the Seeker stomp her way through the snow as easily as a bronto, and as a dwarf who liked his head where it stood, he obligingly side stepped. He saw her slam down her shield on the face of the Shadow he pushed back, and straight up decapitated the thing with one wide strike of her sword without so much as breaking a sweat and moving on to the next one.

He heard himself slightly gulp. For all the shit they'd been giving each other, Varric had to admit, the Seeker was terrifyingly competent. At least now that sword of hers was going to be useful, and hopefully she'd stop pointing it at every damn thing on her path -namely him- and vent some pressure out of her stick-up-in-the-buttness. 

He heard a whistle to his right and instinctively pointed Bianca and shot straight into a Wraith. Its life ended into a puff, and behind it, he saw the she-monster giving him a surprisingly human and appreciative raise of her eyebrow with a smirk. 

"Thanks for the heads up, Whistle," he grunted as an introduction.

She clicked her tongue and winked at him before going back into the fray, and assisting Cassandra. Finally Chuckles could focus on some support rather than straight attacks, and the ladies were doing a fine job in positively annihilating the demons scrambling around. 

Finally it looked like they were taking out the last of it. Solas went up to the rogue woman and pulled her up in front of the rift, raising her left glowing hand, that was now crackling loudly.

"Quick! Before more come through!!"

Suddenly, a continuous green bolt coming from her palm slammed onto the rift and seemed to... sew back the reality around it and, with a sickening distorted sound and a final blast, the hole closed. 

Well, would you look at that. Wasn't that the survivor he heard about back in Haven? The one who supposedly blew up the bloody Conclave?

She stared at her hand for a moment before looking at Chuckles with a disbelieving smile. She nodded her chin towards him and showed her palm to him and pointed at him. 

"I did nothing," the elf denied with a smile that looked, dared he say hopeful? "The credit is yours."

She snorted then. Pointed at herself and looked at him with incredulity. And then gave a vague gesture to where stood the rift before, in askance. She mouthed _How?_

So... she can't talk? Is that her deal? Well now that was convenient...

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky put that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might then have influence on the rifts that opened in the Breach's wake. It seems I was correct."

"So it could close the Breach," Cassandra said while coming to them after getting rid of the goo on her blade with one sweep of her sword and sheathing it. She didn't even look breathless. That woman was a damn monster, she reminded him of Aveline, and it freaked him out.

"Possibly," Chuckles said carefully. Then to the glowing girl : "It seems like you hold the key to our salvation."

Whistle -he decided it was a decent enough nickname- blinked and her head rolled back and she started shaking from a silent laugh, and it was quite a beautiful sight to behold, a laughing woman in the middle of snow, demons, and black blood covering her clothes. At least someone was laughing. He could get behind that.

She signed something and Solas smirked as a kind of reaction to this. Did he understand her? She also seemed to notice and gave him a surprised but appreciative look. Chuckles didn't look like he wanted to elaborate, and he knew it was his cue to come into the picture.

"Well this has got to be the best news in this wonderful sunny day, with a dash of demons in the sky! And here I thought we would be drowning ass-deep in those for the rest of our days!"

She looked amused while she sheathed her daggers,went to her front pocket of her winter coat, and produced a notebook. She made a wide gesture with a smile, inviting them to introduce themselves.

He bowed slightly.

"Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag along."

He winked at the Seeker who made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. He heard the girl snort behind him and he saw her write on her notebook. He could read, in a practiced wide writing:

_That'll make us both then! I'm Ashera Cadash. Are you Chantry?_

Whistle showed the notebook to both him and the elf and Solas couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"Was that a serious question?"

"Technically, I'm a prisoner, just like you," he explained.

Cassandra glared at him.

"I brought you here so you could tell your story to the Divine." He heard the grief in the bitterness of her voice when she went on. "Clearly this is no longer necessary."

Now that wouldn't do. If there one thing he hated more than pissed-off Seeker, it was sad Seeker. 

"Well I'm still here, lucky for you! Considering the current circumstances."

Cassandra grunted. 

Much better.

Solas was soon joining him so he could read what Whistle was writing along with him. By the way he lent on his staff, he concluded he could use the breather. 

_Tethras? I heard about you. Good to meet you, Varric!_

"You may reconsider that stance, in time," the elf sassed. 

"Aww come on. I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Solas!"

Whistle snorted, and he almost saw the curve of a smile on Solas mouth as he rolled his eyes.

She put away her notebook and gave Bianca an appreciative nod of her chin and a catcall kind of whistle. Varric grinned.

"I know right! Isn't she pretty? Bianca and have been through a lot together!"

To hell and back. And back to hell again they were, it seemed.

She stopped him with her palm raised and looked at him with a disbelieving smile and mouthed Bianca?

"Of course! And she'll be great company in the valley!"

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra came back from her talk with her soldiers and stomped in the moment he made his statement. She added while trying to be more diplomatic but failing miserably at it. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but..."

"Have you seen the valley lately, Seeker. I'm pretty sure that your soldiers are as helpless as the lot of us now. You need me."

She grunted again but didn't prove him wrong. Whistle glanced at her then turned to Solas and encouraged him with an eyebrow up.

"You may call me Solas, if there are to be any introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live."

She welcomed his comment with her hands on her hips and a surprised face, waiting for an elaboration.

"He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" he explained in his stead.

She looked at the elf and pointed at the mark. Then at him and at her forehead, and shrugged her hands in askance. He understood it as _Do you know about it?_

As did Cassandra, apparently. 

"Solas is an apostate, well versed in such matters," she explained.

"Technically speaking now, all mages are apostates, Cassandra," Chuckles pointed out dryly. "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, beyond what is taught in Circles, I came to offer any help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, whoever we are."

She stared at him with an unreadable expression then nodded and smiled, while she pulled out her notebook and wrote:

_Not many people, or even apostates, may think that way._

Chuckles merely shrugged.

"Perhaps. But that is merely common sense. Even though it seems to be in short supply in this day."

At that, she laughed silently again and put away her notes. She extended her right hand towards him an he waited a few seconds before shaking it back. As awkward as ever. She mouthed _My Thanks_ , before coming to shake his own hand. 

"Cassandra," Solas said more seriously as the Seeker seemed to be getting impatient, "this magic is unlike anything I've seen before. You're prisoner is no mage but even then, I can't imagine any who would hold such power."

"Understood. We will discuss this further at the forward camp. Let's go."

"Well! Bianca is excited!" Varric piped up while pulling her out from his back and loading the bolts.

Ashera scrubbed her hands seemingly more out of anticipation than to fight off the cold. She looked back at him and winked before jumping down the rubble like an excited kid going to the lake. 

Well. At least someone was having fun! 

Then he was reminded of something. As he climbed down the rubbles, he called out to her :

"Hey, Whistle! When Solas dramatically called you 'the key to our salvation', what was it that you signed to him?"

She looked back at him with a smile, took her dagger out and wrote in the snow something that made him bark a laugh when he went down to read it:

_Well aren't we all just fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Varric's PoV was fun!!


	4. Meeting : Solas

## 4 : Meeting : Solas

He was attacking the demons more out of anger at himself than out of utility. Nothing went according to plan. Oh the Orb was unquestionably activated and working quite well at that, but it was out of his grasp. The hole in the sky was making everything worse and making it impossible to conduct his search in peace. He was a patient man, but now he lacked the time. He tried to understand how in the world the mark ended up on that human's hand. And he wondered if she survived it at all before he was thrown into the fray along with the dwarf.

The dwarf was strange. Well. Now, everything was strange and especially the dwarves, if only they knew... but this one one was even stranger. He was a surfacer, aloof and disconnected from his legacy. But at the same time he knew of the way of things here. Or so it looked like. It was unsettling, the way he looked at him and seemed to... understand... and yet he knew he couldn't possibly. 

He grunted as his back received a spiritual bolt from a Wraith behind him and he was about to turn to get rid of it when two short blades carved down the form of the demon and he saw through the green smoke a human woman who winked at him before running back to finish off the Terror who jumped near Varric.

That was... By the Void, that was the human wearing his Mark!! She lived!! She walked?! How?! How is it possible?! True, the fact she still existed while wearing it on her left palm when he examined her was troubling in itself. But seeing her move at all?!

And she fought? As if she was unbothered by it, as if the thing wasn't glowing and crackling in the grip on her dagger, she jumped and slashed and cut. 

Soon the Seeker was joining them in the fight with a bellowing cry that attracted all enemy presence around her. He finally had the time to cast a proper barrier around them and do some decent support on the two women. He watched as the rogue was dancing around the demons with a hungry smile that was unsettling. 

When the fight finally calmed down he came up to her and raised her hand to the Rift and the power of the Anchor knotted back together the hole.

Well, he thought with bitterness, at least that was working properly. Perhaps he could use the girl to gain back some control on the situation. It's not ideal, but she could at least serve this purpose. Now the Breach was more of a hindrance than anything. And it seemed like the magister that provoked the explosion was still alive. 

Now the best was probably to start all over again. He preferred to do his plan from the beginning rather than controlling only a quarter of what has already started. 

In Haven, he saw potential in the men Cassandra and Sister Nightingale led. And their colleagues... the potential in their resources. He could use that as well. And help in its growth. Then he could help direct their searches.

He took a deep breath, embraced the cold for a moment, and the relief of having closed the rift took hold.

The rifts were dreadful now that he fought against them. The first thing he needed to focus on for now would be closing the gawking breach. It would assure his position as an ally. At least, seeing the mark work was a relief. Some of his theories were correct after all. Now he needed to guide that child holding his key. He would have to take it back eventually, but it would be what would end this disastrous situation.

After exchanging a bit with the young woman, seeing her smile and nonchalant as she was now was a wide contrast with when she fought earlier. She was friendly, curious. And surprisingly level-headed considering her situation. 

As he had noticed previously, she could not speak. Right now there was this reddish scarf over her throat that hid the scar, but her gestures and the way she mouthed words instead of speaking them proved him right. 

He remembered memories of this kind of language. Tongueless slaves speaking through hand gestures and expressions. He did not master it as much as them but he could understand it. Slaves... 

Right now she wasn't using it, simply gesturing simple things for every one to understand. 

She questioned him, about the mark and he concluded his "theory" with this :

"It seems you hold the key to our salvation!" 

She looked at him and then pulled back her head in a silent laugh. And signed something.

_Well, aren't we all fucked!_

He couldn't help the smirk on his face, as she punctuated her joke with a clap of her hands. But she noticed his expression and suddenly seemed very intrigued. She had noticed him. She looked pleasantly surprised and was about to ask him something again, when Varric came up and introduced himself, giving him a breather.

Her name was Ashera Cadash. Rogue of profession and wielder of the Mark. She thanked him for keeping her alive with an easy smile, when she should be trembling under this rain of demons, when she should be looking at him with eyes full of fear and hatred if she knew what he'd done. 

While they were climbing up the side of the mountain and while Cassandra and Varric were again bickering, she came up to him and tapped his shoulder.

_You can understand me_ , she signed with an appreciative look. 

"A bit," he admitted with a nod. "Although I do not master the signs, I can understand some."

 _That is more than most! It's nice to see someone civilized out there_ , she signed with a mocking pompousness. _Where did you learn?_

"I'm afraid you will find it hard to believe me."

She snorted at that.

_Try me._

"I am what the Tevinter Magisters used to call a Somniari. A Dreamer, if you will. In my sleep I am able to visit the Fade and contemplate the many memories that shape it. Some of them use languages that other people might not be able to learn otherwise. I just observed and learnt what snippets I could see."

She looked at him with this bemused look and signed slowly.

_I heard of Somniari. They are quite rare. It's still impressive. What you understand is more than snippets, my friend. It takes more than a few nights to learn it thoroughly._

"Well, I was always told I was a fast learner," he dismissed jokingly.

She laughed.

_Alright, alright I won't pry. For now. You are intriguing, Solas._

He welcomed her comment with a shrug. She was observant as well, perhaps too much. 

The way she spelled his name was amusing. 

"Signing my name seems inconvenient," he observed.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

 _It's easier than Cassandra, believe me._

She signed it quickly but that seemed to be trying. 

_Over time, I will come up with way to say your names without spelling them. Varric gets it with his nicknames! But I can't do it if I don't know the person very much. It takes time._

She was signing quickly and mouthing the words at the same time. It was as if she had unleashed all the words she couldn't express before, and he discovered she could be a bit talkative.

Soon they were interrupted by another wave of demons and she dismissed their chat with a wink and ran lightly along the rocks, soon coming up to Cassandra and slashing away.

After clearing up the way and getting rid of the demons, she jogged near him again and asked :

 _I was separated from my interpret before the Conclave. Do you mind translating for me until I contact her?_

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Cadash."

She snorted.

 _Stop, stop. No Lady with me. Ash is fine._

She used the sign word for "ash" instead of spelling her full name. Was that how she saw herself?

If so, it was sadly accurate...

"I shall take note of that, Ash."

She joined her hands and bowed in a _Thank you_ gesture and added before going ahead of the group :

_I'll make it up to you!_

Oh he was sure she would. At least he was going to make sure she didn't forget. 

It was best to start in good terms with her. The way the Mark interacted with the rifts was too important for Cassandra to ignore her. It was best to befriend her for now.

In time she would have her use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing as Solas is fucking hard.  
> Also may I remind you that I'm a beta-less French girl, if you see weird phrasing please tell me at once so I can fix that mess, much obliged.


	5. Meeting (An actual one) : Leliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana at the forward camp.

## 5 : Meeting : Leliana

Sister Nightingale called upon all the patience she had left in her bones to not slit Chancellor Roderick's throat on this bridge and be done with it.

This was no time to bicker, and she was doing precisely that.

Right now, she missed Josie's calm but sharp diplomacy to tame the beast in her and the bigot crétin in front of her. But she was back at Haven dealing with a whole other kind of frontline, bless her heart. 

She heard with notable relief the casual stomping of Cassandra followed by other steps while Chancellor Roderick was finishing his lecture, when she turned around to see Cassandra, Varric and Solas along with the prisoner behind her. She had been looking at the end of their exchange from afar and had looked unimpressed by all of it.

"Ah there they are," Roderick said drily.

She prepared to adopt her best Josephine smooth diplomatic voice, ignoring the aching need of slamming that ignorant, arrogant mouth of his shut for good.

Plus, Cassandra's presence always had the effect of calming her. She never needed protection, and Cassandra of all people understood that very well. Yet there was an implicit trust that settled between them over their years of service under Justinia and she could safely assume that they both felt safer with each other around. But she also liked to make people understand how dangerous the Right and Left Hands of the Divine could be together. Cassandra had an aura that made them convincing only by standing around.

Behind her, the "prisoner" was walking along, the mark below her glove was crackling green. Though the slight frown she wore was the only sign of pain she was letting on. Her gaze was drifting around the forward camp and she knew then from this behavior that she was used to observe. Well. According to her intel anyway, she had received a spy and bodyguard training for a very specific kind of individual. But those questions would be for another time. 

For now, she had to stay calm for the pest behind his desk. 

"You made it," she greeted them, not hiding the relief in her voice. "Chancellor, this is-"

"I know exactly who she is!" Roderick interrupted her and addressed Cassandra as if she was a simple soldier: "I order you to arrest this woman at once, she is to be taken to Val Royaux where she will be judged and sentenced for her crimes."

There was a slight pause during which there was a varying set of expressions: Solas was a master at managing the show of his emotions, she understood that quite well over the few interactions they shared during the last two days, she had found a strange, annoyed kinship in his talent at being evasive, but now he barely held back the eye roll coming up on his face; Varric, as a man who had very little respect for hierarchy and being the man who loves a bit of drama to spice his life of member of the Merchant Guild, was grinning broadly and was now turning to Solas and hunching his head over his fist to hide his giggling but not too much; the "prisoner" raised an amused scarred eyebrow, giving Roderick a calculating stare with her unsettling eyes and turned slowly to Cassandra while crossing her arms, trying to limit the curve of her smile. Just that movement hinted that she already understood what kind of woman was Cassandra. Then again, Cassandra was not the kind of woman who cared about how people saw her personality and didn't care to hide it either. They would be ready for her or they would not. 

So it was no surprise to see Cassandra frown, in full disapproval, as if she was annoyed at a dog trying to bite her armored leg and failing miserably, and her mouth forming a disdainful scowl.

"You're giving me orders? You're a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat. You clearly have no understanding of the current situation."

This was not an excuse she was giving the man. She was stating his incompetence as a fact. As usual, Cassandra never minced her words and sometimes it caused problems. But right now, seeing the very offended face of the Chancellor was sinfully satisfying. But he still kept his composure and bit back:

"And you are a thug! But a thug who still serves the Chantry! I understand that you thought pertinent to free our only suspect for the explosion of the Divine Justinia's Conclave, and that you went as far as giving her weapons when she still should be locked in and waiting to be taken to be judged by the Chantry!"

Leliana felt her own gaze pass from calculating to purely clinical. She was debating with what techniques she could make him bow down to their will and what would break his own, and she felt her silent fury wishing he was sitting in her interrogation room with all the time in the world.

She pushed that thinking away but kept her face as cold as a stone statue.

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know," she hissed while still keeping her politeness to the minimum. She put some emphasis on the Most Holy, to make it a stern reminder of the hierarchy.

"Justinia is dead!" Roderick ranted and raved. "We must elect her successor and let her decide on the matter!!"

Ashera Cadash clapped her hands twice loudly, to call for attention. She faced the furious glare of the Chancellor with her own passively impatient one. And she pointed sternly at the gawking Breach in the sky, waggling her index towards it, as emphasis, in case what she was showing wasn't obvious. Then opened her palms up in askance, while frowning an accusatory look to him. 

Roderick glared at her. 

"Do you care so little about your situation that you decided not to speak, murderer?!" he growled, leaning on his two hands flat on the table. 

She just stared at him, but didn't looked shocked nor offended. Cassandra was about to sternly call back the comment, when she raised her hand, stopping her initiative, but without taking her eyes off the Chancellor. She untied her used red scarf and lifted her square chin up in defiance, hands on her hips, showing the wicked ugly old scar barring her throat. 

Leliana saw Roderick's usually red face remembering Haven's cold and paled by the second. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it back when she pulled out her notebook and started writing on it, in capital letters. She took a step towards them and showed with an impatient gesture:

_BREACH PRIORITY, NO?_

Roderick backed up violently and pointed his finger to her. 

"The Breach?! And it's a priority for you perhaps, who brought this monstrosity upon us all?!"

"The Breach threatens us all, Chancellor," Solas interrupted, managing to sound perfectly neutral despite the vehement turn of the conversation. "This mark on her hand is the only thing remotely close to the breach, and it is able to close the rifts!!"

"Thank you Solas," Leliana spoke to get the Roderick's attention out of the elven apostate. "Whatever you may want to do with this woman, Chancellor, the effect she has on the rifts is undeniable and cannot be ignored. We must use it to close the Breach! We must get to the temple!"

He just scoffed at her, and she resisted the urge to slap him. How... How can they be all so _BLIND_ as to not see this?! If he was the voice of the Chantry, it'd be time they stopped listening to it, because they were loosing time!

"There is no path to the Temple!!" Roderick snapped. "All of them are overrun by fightings and demons! We need to clear out the camp and wait for the next divine to decide what must be done!"

"And while we wait, who knows if we are able to do anything at all, once the Chantry decide. I don't know if you noticed, Chancellor, but during the last two days, the Breach has been _expanding_!!" Cassandra rumbled, pointing a stern finger at the Breach. 

"And you think this girl can close it on her own?!"

"Well, unless you wish to accompany us and do it yourself, I don't see a better option than that...," Varric mused, scratching his chin with an amused smile. Roderick scoffed again.

"Not even your soldiers will be enough against the demons!!"

"The point is to go to the temple, not to clean up the road! They will carve down a path for us!" She then designated the road past the bridge. "This way is the quickest route."

Leliana examined the road up ahead and made a face, turning to her colleague.

"But not the safest. The troupes can make a distraction while we climb up the mountain."

She heard the dwarf make a depreciative sound as he looked at the potential climb, but ignored him.

"We lost contact with a scouting team that passed there. It's too risky," Cassandra said while shaking her head.

"Enough!" Roderick sighed, finally showing another emotion than the usual scorn. "Please, I beg you, you must see reason, this is madness you are trying to do! Abandon before we lose more lives!"

"No," Leliana said with finality. "This must be done, and is worth the try. There is too much at stake."

Cassandra seemed to ponder in silence while Roderick was protesting their decision. Then there was the cracking noise of thunder, but smaller. They all turned to see the mark under the glove of Ashera crackling in all its green uncanny magic. She held the hand with her other and her jaw was tight with pain. 

While the mark was manifesting itself, there was another pulse of energy through the sky as a blast left from the Breach that had expanded some more. 

Cassandra looked at it for a moment with profound annoyance. Then she turned to the woman and asked against all odds :

"Cadash, what do you think we should do?"

She stopped from shaking her hand to ease the pain to stare at her with incredulity. Then she pointed at herself, mouthing very distinctly : _What? Me?_

"Well," Solas said cautious as ever. "You are the one who bears the mark!"

"And we depend on you to close the Breach," Cassandra completed with a sigh. Then giving a pointed look to Leliana. "Plus the three of us cannot seem to come to an agreement..." 

Ashera stared at her some more. Then she looked around, saw a wooden box on the side and went up on it to get a better view. With her hands on her hips, she examined the road up ahead. Then the mountain. Then pointed at it with a snap of her fingers. 

"Welp," Varric sighed. Mountain it is."

Cassandra sighed along. 

"Then let's get prepared. We know not what awaits on this path."

Leliana smiled to her as apologetic as she could. Then she turned to the mute. 

"I suspect you noticed your personal belongings were not with you. I took the liberty of bringing them here, in case we were to use you in this situation."

She took a few steps towards her own gear and bow, and took out a big back pouch and two intricate blades along with it. Ashera looked positively pleased. She bowed her head in thanks to her while she took her weapons and pouch. She slung it around her shoulders and gripped both blades.

One was much like a sickle, curved on two sides and another small blade next to the handle. The other looked like a mix of an axe and a hook. Both are wrapped in the same red leather.

She strapped the axe to her left thigh with buckles on her pants that were sewn here most likely for that purpose. And with the other she tested her grip, its balance and then started to twirl it around her hand, then to turn it, left and right slicing through the air, twisted her arm behind her, below, around her neck in one movement and gave another final swipe that had more momentum. It was an impressive show of dexterity. And she looked obviously pleased and focused. She gave a wicked curve of her lips to Leliana, and as a fellow rogue who could appreciate a good blade, she couldn't help but respond with one of her enigmatic smiles. 

"I'm glad I could be of assistance." She then turned to Cassandra as she took hold of her bow and quiver. 

"I will pass through the demons along with Commander Cullen's men and my scouts. I will see you back at the temple."

Cassandra gave her a sharp nod. And stomped passed the Chancellor's tent while saying drily:

"You are free to go back to Haven, Chancellor. You will have to forgive us for our delay, as we are trying to prevent this chaos from unleashing upon us." 

Ashera followed her with steps as assured as hers, if not to say eager, as if the prospect of more fights gave her the thrills. 

That. She could understand. The years may have passed and she may have gotten away from the front lines. But as soon as she got the feeling of her bow in her hand back, feeling the old tumbles on her hand and she assured her grip on it. Her muscles memorizing the dodges and the ripostes, the way she locks her shoulder blades for less than a second, the time she took to aim and kill her target in one shot. The mountain's fresh air vivifying on her skin, while her blood is pulsing hot from adrenaline. 

But most of all. The desire to destroy absolutely everything on her path, as she is an instrument of the Maker and she was going to kill every single creature coming from the explosion that killed the Divine. Her friend. Her mentor... Her guide in this wretched world...

She was quite certain the reason why the Commander was staring at her with wariness as she came up to him and his troops, was because she felt her lips twitching up with grim anticipation, and pure vengeful wrath behind her eyes, the expression emphasized by the darkness of her hood. 

She could understand she looked terrifying. But the Commander seemed less impressed by that... and more worried than anything. Not that she cared, at the moment. But she couldn't help but feel slightly wistful while remembering the frightened boy in the Ferelden Circle from ten years ago. He had changed now... He was like her in a way: the sufferings he went through made him the competent man that he is today.

 _All the sufferings?_ a voice cried inside of her, the voice that mourned and wailed...

She shut it down. Silenced it, locked it behind her practical mind. The tears were inappropriate and weak. Right now she didn't need weak.

They talked strategy as they walked straight towards the next wave of demons. At some point, as Cullen put his helmet back on, he stopped and turned to her as she placed three arrows in her hand, and notched another. 

"Sister Nigtingale."

She hummed slightly as she ended a Horror with an arrow in its eye.

"I'm sorry to say this now but I don't know if we will have a chance next..."

He slammed his helmet into the face of a Shade and planted his sword in its knocked down form before saying, his voice a bit breathy:

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Time stopped for a moment as unfathomable pained scorched through her soul. But she stood still, and stared at the Commander, who did not avert his gaze, searching for the mockery the irony, in the sad look he was putting on his face. But then she remembered. She was so used to think like that as a defense mechanism she forgot that Commander Cullen Rutherford could not lie for the life of him, and detested the very act of it. 

So she stared at him some more under the hood, tried to control the quiver on her inferior lip, se nodded sternly, but managed to keep her voice smooth.

"Thank you, Commander."

She could add that he did not need to say it now, it was more of a bother than anything... Or something else, just as stern... But she didn't.

Someone was acknowledging her pain. And she was surprised to see that she was grateful...

And so while her soul wailed, she killed, slashed and crushed, along with hundreds of other souls, mourning the loss of a chance of peace and of those willing to make it work. 

"Maker willing"... Truly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard getting in her head at first. But it came along eventually...


	6. Meeting : Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen at the Temple

## 6 : Meeting : Cullen

Well. Now that couldn't be more awkward. Demons were raining down everywhere and yet his misplaced good sentiment managed to make him feel embarrassed. 

The scouts went on ahead to the Temple while his troops were marching loudly on the road, making sure to attract the attention of the demons on them and let Sister Leliana's men flank the enemy. It took some sacrifices and some working out through heavy trust issues but the two teams managed to work well together. They had to. 

Leliana had given him her usual impenetrable look, but there was definitely something different about its sharpness. But it was hard to determine underneath the hood. She had explained the situation with their glowing suspect and he didn't bother hiding his skepticism. The spymistress had given him an amused smile in a way of acknowledging his remark, but that also meant there was no other choice. 

They managed to carve a path in to the Temple and cleaned the place of the demons. 

The wind was cold and contrasting hard with the still fuming and hot ruins of the Temple. Charred black and spindly dead bodies, frozen in a cringing position of terror and pain, still rose among the broken walls like a vision straight out of his nightmares back in Kinloch Hold. Except that none of this was in the Fade or in his imagination . Everything. Was devastatingly real. The smell was also a stark reminder of that time. But the burnt flesh was the only difference from the humid purulence in the Templars quarters, some ten years ago...

The gaping Breach was masking the blue of the sky that managed to follow them in the mountains. Now there was only a sickening, unnatural green. It was hard to miss, and the troops saw it in all its gawking horror suddenly, at a turn of the flank of the mountain. The wince they all did was so synchronized they sounded like they rehearsed it...

The demons were pretty weak so they made quick work of them, then they waited for Cassandra and her team, with the green-handed woman. 

After another hour or so, while their team were resting, Cullen handed a water skin to Leliana as she watched the mountain behind them. She shook her head as refusal and he did not insist, knowing perfectly why she did that. In a way, they were similar in the fact that they had a hard time accepting help from others... 

At some point, they heard the sound of cobbles stumbling down the cliffs, and Leliana uncrossed her arms, looking up to see Cassandra and the prisoner, walking along what was a left of an old pathway down the mountain and leading to the temple's ruins. They made it.

They looked relatively unharmed Both women waved at them and helped Solas and Varric down the hill, as they seemed to be more assured on their feet for that situation. Tethers was not enjoying this descent.

"Cassandra," he called up to the Seeker, and she nodded curtly in response. "I'm glad to see you all unharmed."

"Do you have news from my squad, Cassandra?" For the first time since he met her, Leliana cut to the chase during a conversation. Though her voice was as smooth as a feather, her eyes were piercing her colleague's through her hood's shadow. Cullen then realized he understood some of Leliana's behavior. She will never admit it aloud, but she worried for her men.

"We almost didn't make it," the Seeker sighed. "They were struggling with a breach, and the tunnels below the mountain were full of demons. But most of them are safe, now. They will rejoin the others at the forward camp."

"Good. Casualties?"

"Three dead, and all of them wounded," Solas answered as he rejoined their gathering with Tethras. "But nothing lethal. I tended to some of their wounds personally, but they managed to take care of most of them. You trained them well, if I might say, Sister Nightingale. They all live."

"For now," Leliana sighed slightly, but acknowledged his compliment with a nod. "Thank you for the report. Now let's rejoin the others, shall we?" she added with a crisp smile to the prisoner.

Cullen could now take a good look at her. He never had the time to actually interrogate her, nor to get even close to the jails in the Chantry, organizing the troops was challenging enough.

She was tall and lean, her coat over her leather armor didn't quite hide the muscles of her arms and thighs. She had an axe-shaped dagger strapped at her left thigh and another sickle-looking blade slung across her back. Thee looked more decorative than actually functioning weapons, but the black demon blood that covered her clothing proved differently. 

Her orange eyes caught his scrutiny and it was hard to not turn his gaze away. She gave him an interrogative raise of her eyebrow, and Cassandra noticed it and proceeded to introduce them :

"Commander Cullen, this is Ashera Cadash. She accepted to try closing the Breach. That alone relieves her from some of the accusations that befell on her, in my opinion."

Cullen snorted. 

"And what, pray tell, did our good Chancellor think of that?"

"I'm sure you know. The man shrieked so loud we could hear him in the Anders," Cassandra rolled her eyes at the mere mention of him. Which was the general feeling of their small council. 

"Ashera, this is Cullen Rutherford, commander of our temporary yet swiftly formed troops. Without his strategy, it is safe to assume that Haven would be swarming with demons right about now."

"And let's keep it that way," Cullen said with a bit too much of impatience. Praise was always making him uncomfortable, especially if he didn't deserve it. "Our men are waiting for you inside." he added with more control.

"Ashera" gave him a nod and seemed amused by his reaction but he didn't give it much thought. This was short lived. 

She took a few steps in the middle of the still standing dead and scorched bodies. She looked at the scenery with... was it wistfulness? It wasn't sadness... not quite. It was not the first time she saw this kind of destruction. It reminded him of the time when he left Kirkwall. As the people around them were frozen in a position of pain and horror, those dark statues another red horrific statue flashed in his memory and he swept it away from his mind. There was no time for such reminiscences. 

The woman seemed to decide the same thing and took confident steps towards what used to be an entrance to a hallway, and Leliana led their troop inside. Ashera let the people go past her for a moment, and as soon as everybody went off, her palm crackled. In one swift movement, she bent on a wall, using her right hand to support her from the stone and hurled her guts. It was quite long and awkward. But for a second Cullen couldn't take his eyes out of this scene, before he went up to her.

"Are you alright?" the question was the only thing he could think to ask. "Is it the mark?"

The woman was panting hard and spat some more bile. He couldn't quite see her eyes, as they were hidden by the hair falling around her face. After catching her breath back, she gave him a breathy laugh, pressed her hand on her throat and he heard her hoarse whisper :

" _I've had worse._ " 

She turned her head slightly so her strange eyes fell on him. He waited for her to regain normal breathing. 

"Is it the mark?" he asked carefully.

She turned and leaned her back on the wall. She stretched her glowing hand once, twice, and sighed. Then she simply gave him a shrug and a jaded smile. He answered her smile with one of his, then they heard footstep and Cullen turned to see Solas coming back.

"What is it, Ash? Are you feeling unwell?"

She signed her answer with her hands, it was slow, with small articulate movements, and he saw the mage frown as he tried to puzzle what she was translating. Then he nodded.

"I suspected as much. Your closeness to the Breach must be difficult now more than ever, even considering your resilience," he added a bit more crisply. She snorted. 

"You can understand what she says?" 

"I've seen Tevinter slaves use the same language," Solas said with cold hidden in his polite tone. "But perhaps we should discuss this another time, I believe we have more pressing matters at hand, Commander."

"Right," Cullen said, frowning. _Tevinter slaves_ "Can you walk?" he asked Ashera, extending his hand to her. She smiled and gently pushed it back, walking past the two men without looking back, while unstrapping the axe at her thigh and the sickle from her back, swinging and twirling them, ready for a fight.

Solas was already walking after her. Cullen followed and asked the elf softly :

"Will she survive this?"

Solas glanced at him and gave a small sigh. 

"I do not know. For now, let's hope she'll live long enough to close it. But even that is not certain. We can only assume that the mark has influence on the Breach, and that the contrary is also true."

 

As they joined the others into the crater of the Breach, he saw her back, looking up to the void of the hole in the sky. He heard her breath hitch. Then he heard a shaky laugh. She was scared and she was laughing at the Maker-damn thing straight out. 

Varric came up to her and patted her back, encouraging her to go down the crater with them. They weren't alone, Leliana's archers were posted on the rocks and ruins above, covering them. His men were waiting next to the Rift, blades drawn, ready to end the demons that would come out of it. The strange hum of the Breach was resounding in his mind but the lyrium in his blood kept him safe from the most of it. A cursed blessing really...

And even with all of that, it didn't feel like any of them were ready. 

And then the woman stood right below the rift, left hand on her hip, the other gripping her sickle. Like a calm pillar in the middle of a raging sea, very different from the one who saw the Breach for the first time up close, her breath shaking.

Solas came quickly to stand next to her to brief her on the Rift and on what she had to do. Then she turned to Cassandra and nodded at her.

"ALL MEN, AT ARMS! WE'RE OPENING THE RIFT!"

And then all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was harder than I thought. There's always a lot of assumptions with Cullen and I don't want to mess it up so I played it safe, for now.


	7. Meeting : Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine at War Council. Politing, politing, politing.

## 7 : Josephine : Meeting

Undoubtably, the situation could've been much worse, Josephine thought as she wrote another letter.

Iarles Adelann Lendon of Edgehall is asking for a report on the Breach situation. The Iarles had been very helpful, but that had been understandable since Edgehall is the closest town to the Breach after Haven. Josephine opted for a honest but polite reply, the people of Ferelden did not loose time with niceties. She also complimented her for the recovery of her young son. She waited for the ink to dry and folded the letter then sealed the envelope. For now she was using the Montilyet seal. But Leliana promised her they would be using another one soon.

It had been three days since the closing of the Breach. The woman, who first was the prime suspect of the explosion of the Conclave was now a savior the people in Haven called the Herald of Andraste.

Now this was what one could call a turn around. Of course, Leliana and herself had made sure this woman could rest unbothered and then answer calmly to their questions. But the people of Haven had gone far ahead of that. Now she would become a figurehead, a symbol, a light in their chaos, or rather the chaos in general... and that all happened while she was asleep.

Lady Forsythia Penthagast demanded a report as well and if they had any news on the investigation about the explosion of the Conclave. Josephine had read a lot of letters from nobles but Lady Penthagast was a master at freezing cold double-speech. Josephine made her answer polite and calming, showing her best and earnest words. Waited for it to dry. Folded it. Enveloped it. Sealed it.

Understandably so, Ashera Cadash after calming the Breach was knocked out, and was still unconscious after three days of deep slumber. It was worrisome at first but Adan, their resident and quite reluctant healer, informed them that the symptoms of sickness were receding and that she should wake up soon. 

To be quite honest, Mistress Cadash was intriguing. According to what Leliana told her of the file she managed to build in less than two days, (it was said that the Nightingale didn't sleep. Josephine knew better. Leliana could sleep actually very well and quite healthily. And that's what made her so much more terrifying), she hailed from Tevinter. The Cadash family of surface dwarves, infamous for their Carta connections, adopted her as their own eleven years ago. Before that she had been a slave under a Magister called Tesora Vastra who passed away around the time Ashera joined the Cadash. The Magister had used her last will to free her from her status of slave by then. Leliana didn't indulge her in the details of this story but Josephine supposed she'll tell her later. 

Comte Florian de Boyard from the Dales was also demanding a report. To this one she merely gave a stern reply. Her politeness had no patience, nor the time, for the people treating non-human individuals as scum. Plus he had no resource of interest to their cause even though the situation was dire. Dry. Fold. Envelop. Seal.

Josephine prided herself as to be the Lady of Multitasking. Well that was before she met Leliana. But still... it was a skill she was proud of. But in all this chaos even that talent felt insignificant... 

She knew, of course, better than anyone that any small word in any small letter sent to any small lord or lady could make the difference in this situation. But since she started working for Leliana and whatever they were building with this mishmash group of strangers, her task never seemed to end. She was, along with the rest of their organization, dreadfully understaffed and letters had to be sent to all south of Thedas and beyond to make sure any help could be provided. 

After finishing the letter to Revered Mother Andromeda of Ostwick and sealing it, she allowed herself a quick break, and took a sip of her tea which was -Thank the Maker- still hot enough to heat her throat and calm her nerves. In the corner of her office, Apprentice Minaeve was as silent as she was and she raised her head to her, with an interrogative look:

"Would... Would you like me to heat up your cup, Lady Josephine? I'm not very prolific magic wise but I can do that much..."

"Oh, no need, it's absolutely perfect," Josephine gave her her warmest smile. "But thank you for the proposal, it's very kind of you."

"Of course," Minaeve seemed bashful as she focused back on her work with a shy smile.

Josephine had noticed with dread that a good part of the Mages that came out of Circles would consider her words, if at all, either as suspicious or as quite surprising. That in itself was telling on how they were addressed and treated back in their Towers. She couldn't even begin to imagine what the victims of the hard treatments of some Templars went through. But nor could she imagine what Templars were going through either. She attended personally to talks between their small numbers of Mages and Templars that joined them, but understanding what was going on while being a person who never got close enough to a Circle to meet anyone in it was a hard, unthankful task. Josephine had since promised herself she would not stay ignorant. Although there had been so much to do, she never had the time to consider this further since she decided on it. 

"But I will definitely take up on your offer in a few minutes...," she added with a sigh. "These days, savoring tea takes hours, and I'm afraid I won't be touching it more than this during the next few dozens of letters I have to write..."

She looked at said-pile and gave another tired sigh.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," Minaeve said with an identical sigh. 

"Quite so... How is your work faring, by the way? Anything new?"

"Constantly. But not as much as I wished we had. Demons are everywhere and varied but I only have informations about those we can defeat, and I hope Commander Cullen can forgive me if he hears that, but I have only documentations about the weakest ones so far, Wraiths, Terrors, Wrath demons... It's still quite fascinating really... But I'm not sure it will help us for the ones lurking around the Breach, they're more powerful but our troops would rather avoid them than facing them, unless it's a regiment like the one they took to close it with the Her... The lady with the mark."

She held up a vial with a violet glowing essence from her bench work in front of her beautiful elven eyes, a fascinated smile on her face.

"But at least Master Solas brought this from the Breach, an essence of a Pride demon. This is amazing, to have been able to vanquish that thing. I was told it was quite large and had wicked electrical abilities."

Josephine tried to give her the same smile, but the prospect of having something from demons fought on the front lines being studied so thoroughly by the young mage did not give the reassuring feeling it probably should have. 

"It seems we managed to find competent assets after all. Although there was quite a lot of backups, as you said. But that is reassuring at least..." Josephine completed with an impression of her own.

Minaeve put back the vial in its tray, and seemed to recall something:

"Do we have news from the Her- I mean the woman who closed the Breach?"

"The Herald?" Josephine corrected with an amused smile. "I seem to understand that her fiever died down... She should wake any day now-"

Leliana gave her sharp and very recognizable knock on her door and opened it.

"War Table room, if you would, Josie. She's awake and coming here now."

"Oh goodness," she whispered while jumping on her feet and almost pouring her tea on the letters. "I'll be right there, where are my documents, my clipboard. Maker I knew I should have replaced the ink pot before..." 

She barely saw Leliana smile before she vanished in absolute silence, as she was rummaging on her desk to look for the papers she needed... So many things to tackle after only three days... she nearly passed her door when she realized her candle was not lit.

"Mistress Minaeve, may I take you up on that offer right about now? I'm in dire need of a light."

Minaeve smiled broadly and she scrubbed her fingers on the wick before a small and shy flame sputtered and started to burn. A wonderful little thing, that trick was and Josephine was grateful.

"Marvelous. Thank you kindly," Josephine bowed slightly. "I will see you in a bit."

"No problem," Minaeve smiled. "Good luck!"

 

The Herald arrived in the middle of a heated argument between Cassandra and Chancellor Roderick. At this point, it was hard to determine whether that would make it better or worse. Most probably the latter... Thankfully Cullen had yet to arrive. Else the situation would've been a tad more troublesome. 

"Chain her!" Roderick ordered the guards. "I want her ready to depart to the capital for trial." 

She looked at the man with her uncanny orange eyes and an unimpressed raise of her eyebrow.

"Disregard that," Cassandra said in a no-nonsense tone, "and leave us."

The guards recognizing in her the authority they actually listened to, bumped their chests before leaving the room. 

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," Roderick growled.

"If you will excuse me, Chancellor, I believe the Breach, even stable, is even more dangerous than your threat." Sarcasm in Cassandra's mouth was never an easy thing to receive, especially when it was this spiting.

The Herald pulled out her notebook and started to write, then showed it to Cassandra. Roderick leaned down to read it as well.

_Still suspect after THAT?_

"You absolutely are!" he exclaimed.

"She is not!" Cassandra countered sternly.

Leliana stepped around the table to face the Chancellor, hands in her back, as she spoke smoothly:

"Someone provoked the explosion at the Conclave. A person that Most Holy did not expect. Maybe they perished there... or they have allies who yet live."

Josephine looked up from her clipboard, troubled.

Careful, Leliana...

"I am a suspect?" Roderick was shocked. 

"You and many others!" Leliana replied coldly.

"But not the prisoner!"

"I heard the voices at the Temple," Cassandra explained trying to calm herself in the process. "The Divine called to her for aid."

"Oh did you hear her voice then? In case you forgot, the girl can't speak!" 

During all that process, Ashera Cadash went and leaned her back on the wall, crossed her arms on the chest and calmly witnessed the scene, as if none of this was of her concern. But before Cassandra could answer, she pressed her hand on her throat and said with a terrifyingly hoarse voice:

" _Whispers like this, we heard in the Temple. Can't remember any of what happened, though._ "

The Chancellor stared at her, profoundly disturbed by the sound she just made, almost disgusted. Josephine had to confess that the deep and hoarse sound she made was quite terrifying to hear the first time. Especially hearing a woman "speak" with such a voice was uncanny. But to Josephine it was not so much the sound that troubled her, but the circumstances in which she would have acquired that wound. The simple prospect of it made her shiver. 

The Chancellor then huffed.

"How convenient! And the fact that she survived? That the mark is on her hand? All coincidence?"

"Providence," Cassandra said with confidence. "It is the Maker who put her on our path and I intend to make the most of it."

Josephine glanced at Ashera who wore a disbelieving smile on her face, wide eyes looking at Cassandra with surprise. She pulled out her notebook and showed it to Cassandra who immediately stepped next to her to read it. She already seemed used to that habit, it seemed. Casandra had always been quick to understand some things and act on them, especially when it made some situations easier to deal with. It was both a curse and a blessing to have her with them, the diplomat thought with a small smile. 

Adding to the list she started writing on her clipboard below "getting new ink pot": "watch out for Chantry staff; care for them so Roderick doesn't turn them."

"I was wrong," Cassandra answered while slightly bowing her head. Then she focused her gaze on the orange one of the Herald. "Maybe I still am. But I cannot ignore the fact that you were what we needed when we needed it. No matter how convenient that makes it look. Maybe convenient is what we need at the moment."

Josephine definitely admired Cassandra, and she was positively sure that she would be an amazing leader, should the opportunity present itself. Or should she decide to take that opportunity at all. Humility, honesty and most of all...

"It's true that your mark is the only thing that has an effect on the Breach, it is our only hope to close it," Leliana supported. 

"That is not your decision to make," Roderick rumbled.

... a will of iron necessary to take action.

Cassandra observed the man in front of her, and Josephine had to give credit to the Chancellor for not flinching outright, because she knew that it was the effect she had on most people when staring down at them with a mix of annoyance, anger and stern determination. 

Cassandra went back behind the table, and Josephine held back a gasp when she saw her pull out the final weapon. Their final weapon. The writ of Divine Justinia. 

Cassandra slammed it on the table and it resounded in the room like a knell announcing a new fate to the world. The eye pierced by the unforgiving sword, staring ominously at all the people present in the room.

"Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine. This allows us to take authority on the situation if the Conclave failed in achieving peace. By order of Divine Justinia, I now declare the Inquisition of old reborn:"

"You can't be thinking..." Roderick stammered, completely baffled. Then outraged, "You will be considered heretics!"

"Then so be it," Cassandra said with a finality that left no room for doubt. Josephine glanced at Mistress Cadash who looked at all of this from the wall, though her face did not show indifference or even her casual interest from earlier. She looked incredulous, and she couldn't blame her.

"We will close the Breach," Cassandra declared while pointing a stern finger at the Chancellor who stepped back as she advanced towards him, with the confidence of she who was and still is the Right Hand of Divine Justinia. For each declaration she spoke, she took another step and the Chancellor fell back some more, positively intimidated. "We will find the ones responsible and bring them to justice, we will restore order as the Divine willed it, and we shall do it with or without your approval."

"You'll come to regret this, Seeker," he glowered. 

"Perhaps," Cassandra said calmly, folding her hands in her back, allowing her silhouette to straighten up and now she looked simply regal. "But we will do what must be done. If you do not wish to take part in this, the door is behind you. Now if you will excuse us..."

She gave him a sharp nod and turned to Leliana and behind the table as the man left the room with anger in his steps, slamming the door behind him.

To have the Chancellor leave in such a way was both dreadful and a relief, Josephine mused. She added to the list "be really careful with Roderick." After a last look, she underlined it.

There was a pause. Followed then by an impressed whistle from Mistress Cadash. Which relieved a bit of the tension, and Cassandra couldn't help but smile at her. 

"I suppose you must be confused by what just happened, Ashera."

Ashera left her spot by the wall to join them at the table and see the map of the south of Thedas. She simply gave Cassandra a shrug and an amused smile. Leliana sighed, looking at the writ.

"The Inquisition of old... We have no connections, no intel, no army, and now no Chantry support. We are not ready..."

"Perhaps. But we have no choice. It had to be done. This will be hard," Cassandra said while leaning her fists on the table. "But we can manage it. We have to."

The Commander chose this moment to come in the room, with his wide gait, the clinking of his armor, and tired but firm eyes. Although the frowning was not helping in making him look any healthier.

Adding to the list "have someone bring food/drink to Cullen more often."

"I apologize for the tardiness," he declared wearily. "I just received reports on the Breach's surroundings before coming here. I saw Chancellor Roderick leaving. Did something...?" Then he saw the book. And frowned some more. "Oh. He didn't like that, did he?"

Ashera shook with a silent laugh, leaning her hip against the table, turning to him, and tilting her chin up as a sort of greeting. He gave her a sheepish smile and took his place on the other side of the table.

"Let's say for now that he will ponder on the situation with his superiors," Josephine sighed. "We must act quickly."

"Maybe some introductions are in order, before that," Cassandra said a bit more cordially. "You already know me as Cassandra Penthagast, you've already met with Leliana, or Sister Nightingale."

"I take care of a certain degree of-"

"She's our spymistress," Cassandra said bluntly and Ashera snorted at the sigh Leliana produced.

"Yes, Cassandra, tactfully put."

Josephine allowed herself a small giggle. 

"You know Commander Cullen Rutherford, who leads our troupes and manage military strategy," Cassandra went on.

Ashera smiled then wrote something on her note book, showed it to him. Cullen nodded then explained while rounding the table:

"The demons hit us hard around the Breach but most of my men and Leliana's survived the fight out there. Although considering our numbers, this might make no difference at all. But thank you for your concern."

Ashera shrugged with her smile and then turned to her.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," Cassandra presented with a nod to her. "It's certain that the little we managed to put together is all thanks to her. She manages our expenses and our influence, or the little we have, at least."

"Now, now, Cassandra," Josephine sighed with a grateful smile, "Pessimism is not what is needed at the moment. But thank you for this introduction." Then she extended her hand towards her for a handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Cadash. I am glad you recovered..."

Ashera smiled then took her hand in hers and lowered her forehead over it in a very courteous gesture. 

"Oh please, there is no need for that," Josephine said, all flustered, and surprised by the sudden gallant behavior. "I hope that you won't find working with us too distasteful. We are in dire need of your help."

Ashera sighed then took her notebook, wrote something on it and showed it to them.

_It's no bother. I slept for 3 days. I miss pieces. What happens? What is Inquisition? Why people call me Herald? Answers, please._

Cassandra and Leliana set off to sum up the events of the last three days and what that Inquisition entailed. Understandably, Mistress Cadash's frown deepened. 

_I wish you'd ask me, before calling me anything,_ she reproached on her notebook. _Don't like the attention._

"Trust me, I understand your concern very well," Leliana said with a humorless chuckle in her voice. "Unfortunately, rumors were quick to spread, and before we knew it, the people of Haven were calling you the Herald of Andrasté."

Adding to the list: "see to moderate the evolution of the rumors on the Herald's title."

Said-Herald clicked her tongue with impatience and started to pace slowly, hands on her hips. The temptation to say something comforting was great, but Josephine abstained. She did not look like she was looking for comfort. She turned and started to sign something. Then sighed and tilted her head up with exasperation. Grasped at the air with a flair of impotence. Then begrudgingly focused on her notebook and showed them the results of her scribbles.

_Nightingale and Cassandra not Chantry then? I thought you were._

Cassandra snorted. 

"Is this what it looked like?"

Leliana rolled her eyes at her then explained with a tight smile.

"Our relationship with the Divine did not mean we were per se part of it. We were even considered with wariness by the other members of the clergy we met with. This middle ground allowed us to expand the Divine's network of acquaintances beyond the religious spectrum, in a way. But in return, if we were to personally ask for support, our credibility without her is close to none. What's more is that the Chantry can't move without the Divine's order. It will then resort to chose a new one, but this will take time..."

"And time is not a luxury we have, at the moment," Cullen concluded grimly, tightening slightly his grip around the hilt of his sword.

Josephine slightly narrowed her eyes at his profile. Adding to the list: "see to lift the spirits a bit."

Mistress Cadash clicked her tongue again. She was about to make a sign again but clenched her fist before doing so. Then leaned on her notebook once more. This looked like it was truly uncomfortable for her, Josephine worried. If this woman was to be the figurehead of their organization, they needed to work out this communication issue. There was no way for her to adapt to them. But they still had means to to adapt to her, she determined finally.

Adding to the list: "find informations about sign language. Make the staff learn it."

The Herald showed them her notebook again. 

_This is holy war then..._

"For now, calling it a war is already quite enough," Cassandra snarked. "The mark on your palm means you are already involved. Whether it is holy will depend on what we discover."

Mistress Cadash seemed to think for a minute but nodded. Then she wrote something that made them stop in their rush.

_What if I refuse?_

"You are free to go, of course," Leliana answered smoothly and Josephine turned so sharply to her she saw the small amused smile her friend gave her in response. 

"But be aware that while some call you the Herald," Cassandra went on while clasping her hands in her back, as if both women were used to this kind of show, "many others still consider you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you stay close."

The Herald raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her and Cassandra gave her the same look. The two women stared at each other for a while, but the other huffed a humorless and breathless laugh, hands on her hips. She waved her hand up slightly, in a way to admit that Cassandra had a point. 

" _Alright, then,_ "she whispered as agreement.

__The completed her agreement with a last word on her notebook._ _

_Strange awakenings, these days._

__Cassandra snorted at that along with Cullen._ _

__"You don't say," he chuckled._ _

__"Before we get started, my Lady...", Josephine said while reviewing her list and getting closer to her._ _

__She was interrupted by a lazy gesture from her. She caught her attention with her hands and gestured slowly while mouthing._ _

_I am. No. Lady._ She emphasized her sentence by putting softly her hand on Josephine shoulder then signed again slowly, while mouthing in an articulate way. _Call. Me. Ash. A-S-H. Ash._

__She spelled her name slowly, making sure she understood, not in a malevolent way, just making a precision she cared about. Josephine could just nod._ _

__"... Understood. Mistress Ash, then." When Ash made a face at that, Josephine insisted: "I was raised with a very strict education, you will have to excuse me for this compromise."_ _

__Ash laughed softly then nodded._ _

__"As I was saying," Josephine went on, "and it has quite a lot to do with what you just showed me with such patience. I noticed that you were not comfortable using written wording and preferred sign language as your main way of communicating, is that correct?"_ _

__Ash stared at her for so long that Josephine feared she made mistake, but she nodded._ _

__"Very well. Then when it is convenient for you, I would like you to teach me, teach us, like you just did with me, how to read sign language. At least basic words. If we are to work together, we need you to do so in the most comfortable way possible, don't we? What say you?"_ _

__She slightly turned to see the other advisors' reactions: they seemed rather motivated by the idea, save perhaps for the blank stare of the Commander, who was possibly and legitimately wondering how in the Fade he would find the time for that. Although Leliana and Cassandra gave a nod._ _

__When she turned back to Ash, she found her smiling genuinely. Again she signed slowly while mouthing the words._ _

_Yes. Thank you._

__"Of course." Josephine beamed. "Let us discuss this further at a later meeting. I will try to find books on the subject for the staff in the mean time."_ _

__Ash laughed again, wrote something and Josephine waited for her to finish writing._ _

_Books will be hard to find! Need to contact my interpreter. My sister, Zajdi Cadash. Waits news from me about the Conclave. Must be worried._

__"Oh. Oh dear. Indeed. We will take care of this at once. Have no worries, Mistress Ash. And I suppose we could use her help as well. Or... any kind of help, for that matter."_ _

Ash raised her hand up and lowered her head with a smile, as if saying: _Word._

____

Josephine was then delighted to see her sign what she mouthed earlier: _Thank you._

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was long. My knowledge of sign language is limited. Which means I have close to none. Bear with me... I need to look it up


	8. Haven : Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra meets with the mysterious sister of Ash.

## 8: Haven : Cassandra

Slowly but surely, the atmosphere of business and work in Haven made its people immune, in a way, to the worrying presence of the gawking Breach above them. Some old ones looked at it while they smoked their pipes. 

It was among those men that she found Ashera Cadash, smoking the pipe as well, one she apparently had already in the bag that Leliana confiscated more than a week ago, staring nonchalantly at the hole in the sky. The pipe was thin, long made of a shiny blackish wood and masterfully carved with vines and other flowery designs.

Unsurprisingly, Varric was among them and looked at Cassandra with a shit-eating grin. She rolled her eyes. At this point, his usual and constant mockery towards her started to make her numb. Well. At least that was something she told herself, until he -again- would say something that crossed the line. Always taking her by surprise with how much he unnerved her in one sentence. That was expected from a best-selling author, of course. So in order to prepare in the best way for what he would say, she ignored him and walked straight to Ash.

The woman was sitting on a empty crate, next to Harrit the smithy, and the elder elven man, Piast, who was representing and guiding the actual inhabitants of Haven, thus excluding their army, and the people that came to help or that were here previously in pilgrimage to the Temple.

The Herald had her back leaning against the wall of their brand new tavern with a book open on her lap. Cassandra had a glimpse of the illustrations on it and determined that it was... a cooking book? Intriguing. Ash welcomed her arrival by glancing up at her while blowing a cloud of thick white smoke through her nose, like a dragon from picture books, and smiled. 

"Good day, Ash," Cassandra greeted. "How are you faring?"

"My, my," Varric snarked, "the mighty Seeker concerned about another living being's health! Stop the caravan, something big is on the road!"

Ash clicked her tongue in an amused admonishment, to which he merely shrugged. As for Cassandra she didn't even look at him. She then smiled and gestured some simple signs she had been teaching the advisors -and apparently Solas as well- in the last few days.

_I'm good. No pain. Thank. What's up?_

Cassandra frowned while she was deciphering this new language. Then she answered.

"There is a woman who presented herself at the western gate. She claims to be part of the Carta and that she was summoned by Josephine Montilyet in Haven. I believe she may be Zajdi Cadash, your sister?"

Ash nodded quickly as she jumped on her feet, eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"If so, your confirmation on her identity would be appreciated," she added with a faked pompous voice and a smile. She supposed the two sisters would be more interested to meet again after all that happened, than simply caring for security issues, even in those times. 

Ash gestured for her to lead the way, but Cassandra made a grunt when she saw Varric casually following them. 

"What?" he shrugged in front of her glare. "If it's someone from the Carta I may or may not know them! I want to see who that could be!"

Ash swirled her hand in repetition , showing she allowed it and that she wanted to keep moving. Cassandra sighed again. She already noticed it previously, but the fact that Varric and Ash were getting along so well was worrisome.

Once they arrived at said-door, they saw the two silhouette of the guards posted there, in front of someone resolutely small and loud and thus most definitely of dwarven lineage. Two other dwarfs behind the newcomer, faces hidden by hoods and thick dark scarves, arms crossed over their chest in a no-nonsense demeanor were standing and looking at the guards intently. She noticed one of them had his hand casually laying on the hilt of a throwing axe at his hip.

Ash then produced a piercing sing-song whistle between her teeth and the two of them looked up, saw her coming and almost instantly relaxed. There was a loud surprised gasp coming from in front of the two guards, and when they turned to see the trio arrive at the scene, they revealed the person they were struggling with. 

It was a female dwarf, with a round and softly shaped face, covered in dark freckles, with green, round, almond-shaped eyes covered by a pair of small round spectacles supported by a thin golden chain passing behind her head. She had two perfectly equalized and thick bangs framing her face softly and the rest of her reddish brown, almost auburn hair was held on by a tight high bun, tied with a quite refined wooden hairpin. It's not something that Cassandra usually would muse easily about on her own but that woman was objectively adorable. 

Cassandra saw a lot of scholars from the University of Val-Royaux during her time of service with the two previous Divines. That dwarven lady's look was much more similar to a scholar's than that of a smuggler or a criminal from the Carta. Varric looked much more the part, in comparison. 

The dwarven lady opened her eyes wide as she saw Ash and then just... squealed. And ran passed the guards, straight to her with open arms:

"WEASEL! YOU LIVE!!" She delighted and Ash welcomed her tackle with a sort of amusement and resignation, it seemed to be a miracle both women were still standing. But the smile of relief she wore as she replied to the hug warmly was alone enough to understand she had missed that person dearly. The guards were perplexed by such a display, but Cassandra gave them a calming gesture and went to welcome the other two dwarven shady-looking bodyguards that followed closely their employer. 

"Welcome to Haven. I'm Seeker Cassandra Penthagast. I hope you did not have too many issues reaching this place?"

One of the bodyguards lowered his scarf and below was a scarred face with a grey beard trying to cover them without success, but his eyes and amused smile were friendly enough. 

"Some demons here and there but your scouts took care of the most part. Sodding snow was more of a problem, if you ask me. The name's Derek, by the way. This is Lerdin. Pleasure."

"I'm so glad you're okay," the clear muffled voice of the woman whose face was still hidden in Ash's coat said. "I was... fearing the worst when I saw the blast. I should've never sent you there in the first place. I should've trusted your guts, Weasel, I'm so sorry..." Her voice wavered and Ash tried to calm her sobbing while she petted the head of what was clearly Zajdi Cadash. She seemed to whisper something to her, so softly no one but Zajdi could've heard. They stayed like this for a few more moments before Ash tapped lightly her shoulder and Zajdi finally released her embrace. With one hand, she signed something, and Zajdi shook her head while blowing her nose with a handkerchief. 

"I was never in danger in the first place. To be honest, that letter from this Lady Montilyet came right on time: we were about to leave for home on the morrow. I almost would've left without knowing you yet lived! I would have abandoned you... I'm not dramatic, your face is what's dramatic!" She quipped back after a silent laugh and some more signs from Ash. 

She looked behind Ash to see Varric waiting patiently with an affable smile on his face, scratching his stubbled chin in thoughts in front of this reunion. She narrowed her eyes:

"I think I might know you from somewhere, serah. That chest hair precedes you reputation," she added with mischief.

"I will answer that those charming spectacles and bluntness are preceding _your_ reputation in the whispers of more discreet fellows," Varric said smoothly. "Varric Tethras. At your service."

"Zajdi Cadash. Pleasure to meet you all."

She turned and looked at Cassandra with curious eyes and not the least intimidated by her. 

"That accent, that armor, that heraldry...," she enumerated almost unconsciously. "You're from Nevarra, yes? Then you must be Seeker Cassandra Penthagast. It's an honor to meet you in the flesh," she added with a bright smile and a casual bow. "Explanations would be welcomed, but might we move to a warmer location? My associates and I travelled fast through that sodded snow and we're in dire need of some hot stew."

She then turned enthusiastically to Ash:

"Unless you have made your soup? Please tell me you made your soup."

Ash laughed again and signed some more. Zajdi's eyebrows shot up. 

"You still have no access to the kitchen? What witchcraft was it that kept you away from the kitchen?!" 

With a humorless smile, Ash showed her her glowing green hand. Zajdi stopped to look at it and then stepped closer to Ash to examine the hand without ceremony. 

"Fascinating...," she whispered while pushing up her glasses on her nose. "Does it hurt?" Ash shook her head. Zajdi made a face. "Indeed, we will need some explanations. Please tell me you at least have a tavern in that little haven of yours."

 

To Zajdi's apparently slight displeasure, the discussion did not occur in the tavern but in the Chantry, around Josephine's desk. The promised stew was devoured by Zajdi, and carefully sampled by the bodyguards but overall they seemed content to be sitting in a heated room. 

Zajdi quickly got out of her thick winter coat, revealing a warm and colorful shawl covering her shoulders, long golden earrings tinting when she turned her head quickly and a finely crafted purple undercoat and long skirt. This was undoubtedly a merchant outfit.

She invited Josephine to continue her explanations while she examined her shelves of books. 

"Consequently," Leliana went on, "we lack the power to close the Breach for good. And we also lack the influence to call upon either the Mages..." She looked pointedly at Cullen who gave her a skeptical raise of his eyebrow. "Or the Templars."

"I see. Lady Montilyet, might I borrow some of your books? I've read most of those titles already but some are unknown to me..." 

"Oh. Of course, be my guest."

"Thank you kindly." As she picked one, two, three, four books and set them next to her chair she continued to talk. "Both Mages and Templars are uptight little bastards, in my opinion, although their conflict has been good for business, mind you, but I get where you're coming from. If influence is the problem then we must act and make sure a lot of people are watching with undivided attention. Especially the Chantry."

"It's a relief to see we think alike," Leliana said with a light sigh. "We were already contacted by a Chantry mother called Mother Giselle, whose reputation of wisdom and thoughtfulness precedes her in both Ferelden and Orlais. Having her support would be the current priority."

"Alright, we shall work on that. So this "Herald" business then. I understand that the people pulled the rug under your feet? Unless you were the one who presented the corners of said rug for them in the first place...?" Zajdi said while taking back her sit and nonchalantly crossing one leg over the other, settling her cheek on her fist. 

That provocative remark owed her an uncomfortable wince from Josephine and a cock of Leliana's head that barely hid a cold, cold smile. 

"The people are free to think what they like," Leliana mused.

"Indeed they are," Zajdi answered on the same tone. "But you certainly knew how to take advantage of the situation."

Slowly, but surely, Zajdi's behavior revealed the kind of person she was. Cassandra was finally starting to believe this woman to be part of the Carta.

"Oh, this is not a reproach, far from it. I'm impressed, even grateful you did what you did. If it were not for that, I fear my dear Weasel would've not survived her stay in Haven."

Leliana gave her a nod of aknowledgement and Josephine sighed in relief. 

"We understand, of course, that putting Mistress Ash and yourself in such public situation might put your... line of business in an... uncomfortable position, but we need you both here at the moment," Josephine explained in her most polite tone. "We need Mistress Ash for reasons that you are now aware of, and we need you, to be her voice."

Zajdi had kept her smile on during all of those interactions but it was at this moment that her already quite thin eyes narrowed, and her expression took a cold edge that could rival with Leliana's. Her silence encouraged Josephine to continue, though even more carefully than previously.

"Mistress Ash's situation is... quite a tricky one. As the potential figurehead of this organization, she will have to interact with a lot of people, and many of which are unable to read, which was until now her prime way of communicating with us. Fortunately, most of Haven is literate but if we were to go beyond and go say, find mother Giselle in the Hinterlands, we will have a problem."

"I can see how that would be a concern," Zajdi said with her perpetual smile on, "But Ashera can very well manage on her own to express what she needs and what she wants, with or without writing it down."

"If she was still just a rogue, then certainly," Leliana nodded then she turned to Ash who had lit up her pipe and waited to be addressed while smoking and filing the room with a warm spicy smell. "However, I'm afraid the situation will need more than just her skill with the blade and her discretion. We need an interpreter, we need someone who knows her well enough to be able to translate her will without even resorting to sign language, we need someone who understands how to speak to the masses and how to speak to an individual. I understand this is bold of us to ask you to step down from your original prerogatives to change to such a public role, but we lack options, and time is of the essence. For now, any small detail can help us advance towards our goal, but at the moment, closing the Breach is beyond our reach. And I'm sorry to say that, Ash, but a mute figurehead will not grant us support as easily as we need."

Ash sighed and gave a dismissive wave. Zajdi was scratching her chin and thinking. 

"I can multitask," she finally said, "plus Derek knows how I like my business to be run. Furthermore," she gave an affectionate look to Ash, "my sister has done a lot already for my protection. Sacrificing my secrecy for her would be the least I could do."

Ash smiled back at her and wrapped her long arm around her neck to snuggle her forehead against her hair. Zajdi giggled a bit at that display and then she told her hand in hers and looked straight at her.

"But you only have to say the word and we're out of here."

Ash nodded and signed something that Cassandra understood fairly well, for it was one of the sign she used the most these last few days: _I'm fine_.

"If I may be so bold, Mistress Cadash," Cassandra asked, "what are your original prerogatives?"

"Well, I suppose we're at this point, I might as well tell you. I deal in the smuggling of artefacts, old books, or objects acquired after exploring unknown, uncharted or not, and mostly forbidden places. I'm a treasure hunter, if you want to be romantic about it. My clientele is mostly made of collectors or scholars who want to make researches on history and other mysteries needing to be unfurled by their prying hands. I might even consider myself a scholar, technically speaking, though I do not have a specific subject of research. I like to say I research everything. From dwarven history, to human history, to elven history, sometimes I'm lucky enough to play with some Qunari, although they do not give history the same importance that we do. Anyway, I usually go on the field to retrieve said objects myself, but I don't fight. I'm good with throwing knives, I guess, but that's the extent of my fighting abilities. I usually let Derek, Ash and Lerdin handle the combat when it's needed. We've been to many places in the last ten years, Ash would be technically my right-hand woman, but I suppose I'll have to give that position to Derek now. Congratulations, Derek, you've been promoted."

So Cassandra was not entirely wrong when she compared her to a scholar. That line of business was not something she had been aware the Carta dealt in. Cassandra was more intrigued than disgusted by the prospect of working with her. The very weary sigh the bodyguard produced then made the small assembly chuckle. 

"Thank the Maker, I guess," Derek grumbled.

"I have a question regarding the smuggling, even though it pains me to ask for this but...," Cullen then said, hesitantly. "Would you be dealing in lyrium as well?"

Zajdi looked at him, narrowed her eyes then gave him a sympathetic smile. 

"I know where you're getting at, don't worry, Ser..."

"Commander Cullen Rutherford. I'm no Ser anymore."

Zajdi widened her eyes at the heavy meaning that implication had and her smile broadened. 

"My respects, Commander. It must have not been an easy decision to make. I noticed you had some Templars in your ranks, I assume you're asking for them, then. As for your question, yes I handle a bit of lyrium smuggling. My brother is more proficient in that but I handle my business with slightly more caution. Although even now, I could have some ready quite early on. For the first time in the history of the Carta, we are leader in the lyrium market. Which sadly doesn't mean much but the Chantry not taking care of that as much as it should be doing is both a relief and a worry. And quite frankly, that conflict had been profitable at the beginning but right now, our convoys are being attacked way too much by both rogue Templars and wandering mages and this cannot stand any longer. So if you tell me your Inquisition is going to try and fix that, that's the best thing I could hope to hear in some time."

She then turned to Josephine and Leliana, straightening up on her chair.

"I will work with you, Inquisition. If my sister is willing to stay, I will stay as well. I will help in any way that I can, whether as Voice of the Herald -I like the sound of that, very poetic- or as a mere and humble Carta smuggler and historian. I shall entrust myself to your capable hands. Now that I agreed to work with you, I will pose one condition."

They all looked at her with wariness, save for Ash's amusement.

"Please, allow Ash to cook for your troops. I'm pretty confident that I've never eaten a more disgusting meal in my life, and I've been in some strange places, and thinking that's what is served to the men and women of this organization on a daily basis frightens me so much it could send my mind to the sodding Fade. For the sake of our sanity, I beg you, let her cook."

"I do not know if she will find the time...," Cullen started but was interrupted by a sharp gesture from Ash, who then signed something that was immediately translated by the delighted voice of Zajdi Cadash.

"Trust me. I can find the time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zajdi is pronounced "Zie-dee" this name comes from this famous Croatian folk song called Zajdi Zajdi that you can hear in Battlefield 1. Never played the game, but the ost is dope. Hope you enjoyed this strange little lady.


	9. 9 : Haven : Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Zajdi chat about many things.

## 9 : Haven : Varric

Turns out that Zajdi Cadash was the kind of person he only liked to hang out with from afar. Not necessarily with physically "hanging out" but conversationally. And they were both fine with that, or at least that's how it felt like to him. The only times they would sit at the same table were if Ash invited them both expressively at her side. In the other moments, Varric and Zajdi tended to play the games of questions/questions a lot when they were together, meaning they were answering each other's questions by other questions and even though it was very entertaining, it was also very tiresome. So when they were together with Ash, they were making conversation through her, using her as a sort of proxy? Was that the word? Yeah, proxy, good one. 

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he found her charming, really. It was just that the similarity with him was uncanny. She was smiling a lot, humorous, liked telling stories of her travels, the longer they were the crazier they became. But when she was talking about her personal tastes and thoughts, she was more secretive, more private, more elusive. Unless it was getting really really late and they weren't too many people that could hear. She was a bit younger than him but finding someone so alike him spooked him a bit, and he gathered it was likewise. 

So if by chance they were sitting at the same table, they either would say nothing and just watch the crowded tavern in companionable silence, or they would say a name of someone funny they knew from the Carta or the Merchant Guild, and if it was a common acquaintance, they would giggle and gossip about them for a very short moment. Sometimes it only took one question/one answer, as such: "You met with this guy in Denerim's Guild? The one dealing with nobles' dirty sheets?" "The one with an eye that says "shit" to the other?" And then snickers, before going back to silence with knowing smiles. 

Another subject they could at least talk about were books. But even though she read a lot of them, she was more into essays and researches than into novels, like himself. So their chats on litterature, while starting off enthusiastically, often ended up with one recommending books to read to the other. Although they did exchange books once. He had tried to find the most historically accurate novel in his collection, and she had lent him her most narratively built history report. So far, the experience had been intriguing but not boring. Otherwise, if one entered the tavern and the other was already there they would give a wave or raise their drink at each other. 

And that was about it. 

Oh, but there was at least one subject Zajdi Cadash wasn't silent about: her dearest sister.

"So, Specs, what can you tell me about our dear Whistle?" he asked while they were waiting for Ash to come back with food for the three of them at the tavern.

"You call Weasel, "Whistle"? I like it! Sounds similar to mine!"

She took a sip from her drink then smiled broadly. 

"I could tell you a lot, actually. If there's one thing Ash isn't dodgy about, it's her "backstory" if you wanna put it like that."

The novelist in him made a snicker at that. She laughed humorously before he went on. 

"Well then, I don't want to spoil her the fun of seeing my face while telling me about the shit she's been through."

Zajdi shrugged her eyebrows in an amused way, as approval of his point, hopefully. 

"Nah," he dismissed, "let's start off small: Why 'Weasel'?"

"Oh that one's easy! Back when we first met, and we started to exchange in sign language for the first time, one of the first thing she told me was that I looked like a mouse! So from that moment, her nickname for me had been "Mouse". She was quite proud of that since I was, and still am, a greedy little shit with a round face, high voice and all of that, and I'm a library rat on top of it all... Still I though it was unfair that she was the only one enjoying the privilege of giving me an animal nickname. At first I thought of "Cat", but that'd mean she'd be my natural enemy right? I didn't want that so I chose another rodent: it's sneaky, fucking nasty when you piss it off, can sneak in literally anywhere and most of all it has such. A long. Body!" 

Varric leaned on the side to get a look at the tall, lithe silhouette of Whistle, leaning her elbows on the bar, listening and watching Flissa preparing the food. Long body, indeed.

"Any more question in mind, messereh?" 

"I heard she was adopted. How long has she been in your family?"

"That'll make eleven years in two months, I think. I'm the one keeping track on that. Nor Father nor Ash care about that, but well, I'm the historian! You could say I'm the Shaper of the Cadash family! Father first took her in because once, he visited Tevinter and saw her fighting. When she became alone again he offered her a home and a family. She wasn't lonely perse, but she told me she was glad to find at least a place to rest at last."

Zajdi stopped to stare blank into space then said with a wry smile:

"Actually she never called the Cadash household home, for as long as I can remember. She called it often a resting place. I was always the one saying "when we get back home..". She carries the Cadash name but it never feels like she's truly part of the family. My mother and brother always make sure of that, mind you. But I don't think that's why she thinks it's not her home. She's beyond that kind of thing."

"Did she tell you then?"

"Well we've known each other for ten years, so yeah, you could say that. It bugged me so I had to know at least... but she just told me because I asked. And it was like she was telling me about an annoying or embarrassing part of her life."

She looked at him as he was expecting her to go on. She smirked:

"That's not my story to tell, old man. You said yourself. If you wanna know, you just need to ask. A warning, but I guess you probably gathered that much yourself, it's not a stroll in the fields of spring. There is a reason why she has that scar across the throat. I will ask you this, though."

She leaned in and invited with a nod for him to do the same. 

"Wait a bit after you're more familiar with each other. I think you're a person of quality, Tethras, but the reason why she refrains from telling her story to others is that people always have the same reaction to it... Pity. And that, she can't fucking stand."

"She told you that?" Varric asked while a part of him knew very well the answer.

"You will see it on her face when she doesn't like something," she snorted, leaning back in her chair. "You will feel it in her aura, when she doesn't like something. Felt it firsthand, and I'm telling you, you will see it, when she doesn't like something."

"Fair enough. I will wait, then," he declared, mimicking her.

"Much obliged."

Varric rose his eyes and saw that Ash was leaning a bit more above the counter of the tavern, whispering something in Flissa’s ear. Zajdi followed his glance and smirked.

"Now, things in this good establishment are about to get much better," she said taking another sip from her beer.

"Why’s that ?"

"During the first days Ash stayed with my family, she overtook the kitchen in less time than needed to peel an onion. I didn’t know back then but her stay in Tevinter allowed her to develop a hobby she adores more than anything…"

Varric was listening while watching as Ash passed behind the counter, borrowed Flissa’s apron, put it on herself and entered the kitchen.

"Cooking !" Zajdi completed with a satisfied sigh. "Soddin’ finally. I don’t think I could stomach anymore of this garbage," she scoffed, pointing at the empty bowl of stew in front of her.

She was saying the food was awful, and to be honest, it was even worse than that, but she ate it in one shot. Varric snickered and waited with Zajdi for what the Herald was preparing.

First thing that changed was clearly the smell. Sweet smell of onion, spices, chicken, followed by other vegetables. It was a slight change but now the patrons were starting to ignore their plates to smell this new flavor that was desesperatingly lacking in their meal.

After around half an hour, Ash passed the counter with a smug smile and swagger in her steps.

"Ooooh, that’s the look of victory I see there," Varric chuckled as she set two new bowls in front of both dwarves.

She clicked her tongue, and took off her apron, and settling it on the back of her chair, crossing her legs and starting to fill up her pipen, waiting for them to taste her cooking. Zajdi didn’t wait very long and scrubbed her hands in anticipation, before digging in the soup. She closed her eyes and moaned in relief, while her spectacles were getting foggy because of the steam.

"I had missed this ! Now that’s a winter soup alright."

Varric shrugged his eyebrows, straightened up on his chair and tasted the soup.

It tasted like home. The bouillon was clear and full of the taste of onion, cabages and chicken, along with carrots and acorn, along with some other spices that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. The neatly cut vegetables were melting in their mouths, and the chicken was tinged with the aftertaste of fire cooked food. It was delicious. He was probably exagerating but after eating that terrible stew for two weeks, anything that good could only had been done by the Maker.

"It’s so good I’m blaspheming," he said with his most serious voice.

Ash’s smile then was discreet but very different from her usual enigmatic ones : it was sincere and a little proud. She tried to hide it behind her drink, and Varric thought that was cute. Probably the first time he ever thought that about her. Zajdi groaned in agreement while taking her sweet, sweet time to eat her soup. Now he understood finally why everything he saw her eat was gone before he had the time to look down. The worse the food was, the faster she ate it to feed herself and forget the taste. Here she enjoyed Ash’s cooking to the fullest. The Herald looked at her sister with an endeared smile.

"How did you accomplish this witchcraft, then, Whistle ?"

Ash looked up from her drink and her enigmatic smile was back on. She signed something and Zajdi snorted.

"She said ‘I don’t kiss and tell.’"


	10. 10: Haven : Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas meets Zajdi.

## 10 : Haven : Solas

Varric visited Solas’ hut, curious as to how he was settled and was quite surprised to see how quickly he filled his shelf with various books. They exchanged references and Solas held back a chuckle when he heard the dwarf grumble about the fact that he didn’t have any novels, only essays, biographies and the likes.

“You should get along just fine with the Cadash girl, just the sort of thing she’d read,” Varric snorted as he poured two goblets of wine for the two of them and put them on his desk. Solas put away his parchments and books for them and took his but wasn’t exactly in the drinking mood, so he just sat there, glass in hand, waiting for Varric to elaborate.

“And which one are we talking about exactly ?”

“The smartass one.”

“Ah. I presume you speak of the interpreter. I have yet to meet her.”

“I love how you’re able to understand of whom I’m talking about with just me calling them names,” Varric chuckled, sipping his wine nonchalently. It wasn’t a good wine, but it was tasty enough, and he supposed it could bring comfort in this cold. 

“Your ‘names’, so to speak, are always quite descriptive. Although, why you insist on calling me ‘Chuckles’ remains a mystery to me.”

“Why, Master Solas, it’s because I find your constant jolly mood endlessly inspiring !”

Solas couldn’t help his smile and stared down at his glass in order to hide it, but the chortle Varric produced told him he saw through that and he sighed. 

“So, what about Mistress Cadash ?”

“She’s a book worm, like this little club of ours ! Except she’s also an ‘archeologist’. So she’s more into the scientific and historical aspect of literature. The boring stuff, basically.”

“History is far from a boring subject, Master Tethras.”

“Sure, I certainly won’t deny that,” Varric admitted with an shrug. “Historians, though..., when you want to invest the reader, you have to be clever about it ! Not spouting out plain and boring sentences as if it was a military report !”

There was a sharp knock and Solas rolled his eyes -peace was rare in this parts-slightly as he stood up to open the door. And there before him, stood the dwarven lady, Zajdi Cadash, Ashera Cadash’s sister and interpreter. She looked up at him above her round spectacles and beamed at him.

“Ah ! I finally get to meet you ! Good day. You are Master Solas, yes ?”

“I am indeed. Good day. You must be Lady Zajdi. How may I help you?”

“Well, I wanted to meet with the only other person in this village who’s fluent in Hastith language,” She then noticed Varric and leaned her head passed his stature. “Varric ! You’re here too ! What’s this about ? Were you two gossiping ?”

“In a way. It’s a meeting of smartasses,” Varric giggled, raising his drink to her. She grinned, then looked up to Solas with mischief in her eyes.

“In that case, I must imperatively join you ! I have a reputation to uphold.”

Zajdi Cadash seemed to wait for his consent to enter his hut and Solas stepped aside and invited her in with a wave. She grinned at him and walked straight next to Varric.

“What are you drinking? Do you have some left for me?”

“Something from Orlais, don’t remember the name,” he said while showing her his goblet. She smelled and straight up flinched, her nose frowning.

“Yikes, that smells dreadful! Where on Thedas did you find this?”

“I dug it out of some old cupboard in the Chantry. Probably been there a while.”

“Well,” she answered while fetching another stool for herself and put it next to Solas’s sit while he closed the door and rejoined them. “Pour me some,” she demanded with a smile, pulling out a goblet out of one of her pockets. “I want to get wasted.”

Varric chuckled while Solas sighed as he sat and took back his own glass. 

“I would like you to avoid such behavior in my abode, if you two wouldn’t mind,” he deadpanned. “I wish to keep the integrity of this place for as long as humanly possible.”

“Psh, you’re no fun,” Zajdi pouted childishly.

“Relax, Chuckles. We shall aspire to be decent hosts, right, Specs?”

“Oooh, ‘Chuckles’, I like this one too,” she giggled at Varric. “Worry not, Master Solas, I’ll be on my best behavior! Now, I have some questions for you.”

Solas sighed internally. Questions from inquisitive people about him made him uneasy. Although at this point, it wasn’t so much of a challenge but more getting back in shape, for him. He practiced the lies about his lifestyle and birth so well he did not need to worry about that, however meeting new people and their new questions always felt like a trial, especially with those working with the Inquisition.

He had to give Sister Nightingale some credit: her spy network was commendable, although now not quite as thorough or deep as his own. Were it not for the humongous time difference, the lack of informations in this era about his own and the fundamental changes he caused that modified the very face of the world and its original properties, it was highly possible she would have figured out his true identity by now. 

For now, Solas had to do what he managed to do well thus far: hide everything behind the truths he told and in the most spontaneous way possible.

“So tell me, Master Solas, where did you learn to speak the Silent Sisters’ sign language, or what the fluent singers like to call “Hastith”?”

“I did not learn more than observed what I saw in the Fade.”

“In the Fade? I didn’t know mages could go to the Fade freely! Oh! Unless...”

As she hesitated, he answered for her.

“Well, let us say I am part of an endangered species, if you want to put it this way. I’m a Fade Walker,” Solas said raising an eyebrow, surprised by her knowledge on the subject.

“Oh, my, my, my! A Somniari!!” she delighted, clapping her hand on her thigh. “That’s rare indeed! I met only one in Tevinter and he was still a beginner! So how does that work? What did you see in the Fade?”

“You seem to be quite knowledgeable on the subject even though you’re a dwarf,” Solas said, now too late realizing his surprise made him a bit blunt. She merely laughed at that.

“Not being able to dream gives paradoxically, a lot of room for imagination. And I’m a prolific reader. Magical theories and other doctrines like such are the kind of thing I keep on my night table! But tell me more, tell me more. I think we’re going to get along splendidly!”

Solas glanced at Varric with weariness in his eyes and the dwarf merely shrugged with an amused smile. 

“What do you know precisely about the Fade Walkers, or Somniari, if you’d prefer, Mistress Cadash?” He asked after a quick silence of savoring the unsavory drink.

“Well,” she started, and then proceeded to spit everything she knew on the subject for the next minute in a practiced and continued flow. “Originally, it used to be an Elvhen of old thing, back then there was quite a lot of them, if I recall, then approximatively, the Tevinter mages saw that and thought: “Golly, that looks like fun!” and started to do the same, but they started to become rarer and rarer, eventually becoming one of the most difficult type of mage to find. It is probable that as soon as a Dreamer is detected in a Circle of Magi, they’re promptly dispatched as no one has had the formation too train them and so they become too dangerous to handle, for their connexion to the Fade makes them vulnerable to possessions from demons, more so than their fellow other mages. An adequately trained Somniari, would be able to enter the Fade while asleep without resorting to the consequent amount of lyrium usually necessary to achieve that. They are both able to communicate with the spirits of the Fade freely and walk its tortuous paths of black roads and memories while sleeping.”

She added after sipping her wine and looking at him with a bright smile but that didn’t reach her eyes narrowing at his face.

“It is theorized that should a Fade Walker’s mind be killed during their meanderings in the Fade, they will wake up in the real world as Tranquil. But I gather you already knew that, and that is probably not your point here, am I wrong?”

“Indeed it’s not,” Solas nodded while mustering a good part of his mental strength not to appear taken aback by her extensive knowledge. “What I meant to explain was that I’m... a quite prolific Dreamer. Thus, I was able to witness many memories. Sometimes you may be sleeping one night and be stuck in the Fade while the memories of a man’s entire life are shown to you in the equivalent here of a snap of fingers.” He accompanied the words with the gesture. “In such visions, while learning to dissociate myself from such memories and sensations, I was able to learn many things from the past. This is how I came upon the memories of slaves from Tevinter, learning and communicating through hand gestures and various signs to compensate for their loss. I was not aware however, that it was so similar to the Silent Sisters way of communication that you’re speaking of...”

“I see... forgive me if that sounds preposterous, Master Solas, but walking the Fade as you do seems awfully convenient for someone of my profession. Almost too convenient.”

“I can see why you would think that. However, I’ve been doing this and warding myself from the danger of the Fade for all my life. An unpracticed Dreamer could be more in danger than a normal exploration in this world.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. There is a reason I walked the old skin of the world with bodyguards around me, good sir. But I see your point.”

Varric shook his head, with a smile, though it didn’t look like it was out of amusement...

“Originally,” Zajdi started explaining, with a slight slur from drinking, while still managing to be perfectly intelligible, “the silent slaves of Tevinter learnt their language from from a Silent Sister -hence why it’s called the Hastith language- that reached the surface and became a fighting slave in the arenas of Minrathous through a series of unfortunate events, a very long time ago. Back then, it was common occurrence to have mute slaves. It was one of the first silent rebellions from the slaves of Minrathous, because they developed a language for themselves, so they could communicate and connect with the rest of the world, but also a language that the masters couldn’t and wouldn’t understand. Time passed though, and the Masters started to learn the Orzammar version in order to communicate with their servants better, but mostly to counter their initiative. Through time, the slaves developed their own version but used the traditional Orzammar Hastith language to address their masters. What you saw back in this memory of a man must have been someone learning the Tevinter version, as scholars call it, and is the one Ash is using. I first started off by learning the Orzammar version through books, of course, but when Ash came up and I noticed the difference, she told me about this story and I now use the Tevinter version, more out of habit and convenience. Plus the Tevinter one is much more colorful and fun. The Orzammar one was developed by ladies only focusing on war and fighting, so it’s very concise, sharp, very practical and very, VERY boring. So good for you, Solas, and most of all, good for us!!”

She giggled and both Varric and him smiled at her drunken state.

“I must say,” Solas confessed. “I did not expect you to have such an extensive knowledge, Mistress Cadash. Concerning the Dreamers, I was under the impression that this kind of informations was not available to even the most well informed scholar.”

“Well, when you are born in a family that lives from illegal business, you learn really early on the kind of informations that most people would never dream about. Such are the pros of my profession! To be honest, the scholar aspect of my life is only secondary to the fact that I’m still a damn good treasure hunter! Although while most of my colleagues are more interested in the profit aspect of that activity, my thing is discoveries, mysteries, knowledge acquired through exploration. This is what I live for. This is what drives me.”

“Still,” Varric commented while swirling his goblet of wine, “even among the scoundrels of our kind, that is not something we usually dwell on.”

“That’s their loss,” Zajdi dismissed with a slight scowl on her usual smiling face. “Personally, I won’t rest until I know everything there is to know.”

“What if you do not like what you learn?” Solas asked that question out of pure instinct in front of the dwarf’s honesty, even though a filter settled deep in his practiced mind allowed him to say it with enough amusement to hide his bitterness.

Zajdi looked at him for several seconds and he thought that maybe that question was too suspicious after all, and he was ready to pull out a elusive subject when she finally answered, revealing her stare to be only one of reflexion.

“Whether I like what I learn or not is irrelevant,” she answered looking back at him, solemnity hidden behind casualness. “This is not about me. This is about what the world hides, and so what it wants to reveal. It wants to be found. The truth that the world hides wants to come out, like a butterfly out of a caterpillar, like spring after winter...”

Her gaze stared into the void and her eyes went soft for a moment, and there, he saw her true passion burning continually and warmly inside her soul, beyond the enthusiasm, the excitement, the ruthlessness...

Inside himself, he felt a bitter smile blooming, while his actual face nodded in understanding. 

What to think of this, truly... What to think of her, of them both, both of them severed from their ancestry, of their past... and yet... they felt real. Connected to what surrounded them. Whole... even though this very idea sounded ridiculous. 

He had to stop himself from making friends. Not at this level. Even though he was tempted to just isolate himself from the group, it wasn’t the wisest course of action. It was as she said. This wasn’t about him. It was about the truth. And how it all should be. How it all should’ve been. This young girl should understand...

“Why this fascination for the past, Mistress Cadash?” he still asked. 

“Yeah, I’m curious too,” Varric added. “What’s so interesting in the past that’s not already here?”

Something in the dwarf’s sentence almost made him snort. But there was also something where maybe a part of him admitted, reluctantly so, that some aspects of this new, failed world, were similar to the one he knew: the people, the hierarchy, the system, the allegiances... Though faint, an echo was still palpable and felt like and immuable thing, that his cynical self recognize as a constant from one era to another. And so far, this echo had not been a pleasant one.

“The question would then be,” Zajdi’s voice brought him back to the hut with two companions he never quite expected to have before, “what do I look for in those ruins, yes?” She stared at nothing, raised her eyes above his own to think and her reflective stare was serene and smiling, as if thinking of a loved one. “First is because I love questions. Perhaps I love more questions than their own answers. I love to question everything I see, to say that none of what I’m seeing is what I first think it is, even though sometimes the world is awfully predictable.... That’s it. I want to see the unpredictable in the past, I want to see the new in what has been. Second of all...”

She grins.

“The pleasure, the thrill of unlocking a mystery from the past and finding pieces of a puzzle you have no idea of the size, this feeling here, is like none other. Finding knowledge in books or from someone’s words gives me this feeling but only barely. Nothing can compare to the moment when you’re in front of all the pieces of the puzzle, and when you realize the picture is actually much, much bigger. It’s like when you’re undressing someone, slowly, and then realizing what hides this coat, this boot, this shirt, and then when you see the skin and when you want to know what’s beyond the face and skin of that person, to know more and then the layers become infinite... Am I even making any sense at this point...?”

Probably one of the first time Solas, and probably Varric saw Zajdi looking embarrassed. Her smile was shier, even.

“Very much so,” Solas reassured her with a smile. “Passion has a way of come through someone’s words even if they appear nonsensical. And you may rest assured your wording was quite clear... Quite poetic, might I add.”

“Yeah, great analogy, Specs. We may yet make an author out of you,” Varric chuckled with a tap on her shoulder.

“Maker forbid,” she cackled. 

There was a companionable silence until Zajdi looked back at him with a smile.

“I’m thankful, Solas, that you understand Hastith language. Back home, everyone understand her so it’s always quite annoying to readapt in a new place. However, I have to ask you to translate for her when you both are on the frontlines because I can’t fight for the life of me...”

“Of course. It’ll be my pleasure.”

“That’s a relief. It’s one more thing off my mind. You’ll find it won’t be that tiresome to do, though. Even with sign language, Ash is not very talkative.”

Solas nodded in understanding, and Varric took over the discussion by talking about the book she lent him, and a literature debate sprouted in his hut, with not a care in the world for the Breach, the demons and what or who would have caused it all... 

It would be hard to not make friends here, strangely enough... 

He erased the thought as soon as it sprouted. He still listened to the two dwarves. Their ramblings could at least serve as intellectual practice, if it could be called that. And at best, this connection between them could always be useful. 

 

The Fade welcomed him in a new place, he was directly transported in a dream, a memory that wasn’t his own.

The skies were grey, and below there were the roaring waves of this ocean, rolling on a flat beach of grey sand and smooth pebbles. The smell of salt took over his senses but soon enough the rolling of the waves started to calm the sensation. He slowly got used to the thunderous, perpetual and repetitive sound that pulled him in a strangely serene state. The sea on the shores had the gift to do that to people. 

The beach stretched flatly like a smooth line of land connecting to the sea. The waves came crashing and soon the water and the foam would slide on its surface, as if caressing it, shaping it slowly again and again.

There was a small figure crouching in the rising and receding water. Hands in his back, he carefully stepped towards it, observing the precise, crunchy, texture of the sand, the salty and humid taste of the air in his mouth, and the comforting roaring of waves enveloping his sense of hearing. This memory was uncannily accurate, mimicking reality to an almost confusing degree. Not to his practiced mind, but nevertheless, it was an impressive feat. 

The figure was a human girl, not older than five or six, messy brown hair whipping around her face as the wind was blowing. She was unbothered by it. Too focused on her current task. Next to her stood a wooden bucket in which he could see a number of seashells, pebbles of various forms, feathers of sea birds, sea weeds, and other marine plants. A collection as such was always dear to a child, he smiled, he couldn’t help being endeared by the earnestness of this small soul. The girl had a well tailored tunic, well made but also thoroughly used, dirtied and wet by her undoubtedly numerous explorations, she was barefoot, letting the water lick her toes, she was examining with thorough attention a colorful sea shell. He could feel more than see the secretive and pleased smile on her face. 

She got up, putting carefully the seashell above the many items of her collection in the bucket. Took the bucket in her hand and stared at the sea, and Solas was both surprised and not to look upon the young and unscarred face of Ashera Cadash, gazing at the horizon with bright yellow eyes. There was no scar across her throat. A voice of a woman was calling a name in the distance, that the Fade couldn’t exactly grasp, and Ashera stared at the sea some more before turning and running towards the dunes. 

The beach slowly started to fade away, leaving room for another memory as he walked upon new horizons. 

Enough dallying. There was work to be done. 

He started to search for the information he needed, but in the dunes that he left, the little girl had turned her head to look at him. Him specifically. He felt her stare but when he turned back, the fickle nature of the Fade had already swept away the sea and the beach. Leaving only the presence of the yellow eyes in his mind.


	11. : Haven : Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and his paperwork get a visit.

## 11 : Haven : Cullen

Sun just had set when the Herald and Lerdin, the other Carta executive that came to Haven with Zajdi, came back from hunting. They had a few rare rabbits and some nugs to complement the Inquisition food supplies for the night, chances were good she was going to cook it herself. Cullen could appreciate good food, but it it felt like a thousand years ago since he actually took the time to enjoy an actual meal. He buried himself in endless work. And even though he felt the fatigue in his eyes and limbs, he’d rather stay awake and get some work done rather than try -and ultimately fail- to fall asleep. Sometimes he would muster the strength to get up and crash the bed in his tent but after sometimes he would ask the elven servant to wake him as soon as he was awake so that no one would find him sleeping on his desk. 

Though recently, it seemed all the advisors received on their desk every morning a nice mug of hot tea, pre-tasted for poison -Leliana’s orders-, “Compliments of the Herald”, and it was... he had to admit it was one of the best tea he ever tasted before. 

At some point in the middle of reading a report from troops in Orlais, a delicious smell announced the presence of someone bringing a meal to him. He lifted his gaze to find none other than the Herald, Ashera Cadash standing there with two plates in her hand. She shrugged her eyebrows at him with her usual enigmatic smile as a way of greeting him. 

“Lady Cadash,” he greeted, fumbling a bit with his papers. She clicked her tongue with impatience at the “Lady”, and Cullen switched to her preferred way of address. “Apologies, Ash. Good evening to you too. I had no idea you could prepare a meal so quickly after hunting it...”

She chuckled and put the two plates on his desk, one for him one for her, took a stool and sat across from him near the stove and pulled out her note book.

_I’m quick but that was two hours ago._

“Two hours...” he sighed. He scrubbed his eyes with his hand. He glanced at the plate. It smelled like nug meat, boiled with vegetables and spices, almost like a stew but less marinated, with mashed potatoes. It smelled warm and hunger came running back in his stomach.

He looked up at the note book Ashera was showing him again.

_Heard you tended to skip meals. I figured if me and not a servant brought it, you’d feel obligated to eat._

He stared at her with a mix of annoyance and amusement. Her cocky smile broadened and she set her notebook aside, moved away some of his documents and tinted his plate with her own spoon. That clearly meant “ _Eat_.” 

“How thoughtful of you,” he chuckled, taking the plate gingerly. “Thank you. Who’s idea was it?”

She laughed silently and mouthed “ _Josephine_ ” then held a finger and shrugged while pointing at herself. That probably meant “ _It was my idea too._ ”

They started eating silently, save for the humming noises he did while tasting the food and the snort she made at them. 

After eating, Ash passed her head through the tent’s flap, and whistled. He heard a guard a greeting her and she wrote something on her notebook then showed it to her.

“Understood, I’ll be right back.”

She sat back on her stool and went on eating dinner. She seemed to be eating it carefully, putting one by one every ingredients in her mouth, looking thoughtful while doing so, tapping several times the spoon on the edge of her plate. Looked like she was still thinking about how she cooked the meal.

Cullen knew that if there was to be a talk during this dinner, it had to be him that would have to fill in the silence, because at this point, she couldn’t communicate with him without writing in her notebook, and he didn’t wish to be the reason for a cold meal. Should he just make a one sided talk?

He remembered something Zajdi told him when she told the Advisors how to communicate ideally while speaking with Ash. 

“ _I pride myself in being a good judge of character and I will go ahead and say that you four won’t be stupid enough to put words in Ash’s mouth when she answers your questions. So just ask yes or no questions and make sure they are precise and that you don’t have your suppositions in the question, otherwise you’ll just conclude something that is probably wrong. If Ash feels the need to elaborate, learn to be patient and to wait for me to translate or for her to write. When I’m not accompanying her, place yourself next to her so you don’t struggle to read her writing._ ”

“Did you learn to cook in Tevinter?” he said after thinking of his question. 

She did a weird nod that probably meant: _Mostly_. 

“So I gather it’s something like... a hobby?”

She simply smiled. The fondness in her expression showed that there was a lot of nostalgia involved. She still nodded. Then she looked up at him and shrugged her eyebrow at him, as if she was asking something.

“Are you asking... if I have a hobby?”

Nod. Cullen settled against his chair, thinking back... Then chuckled because he forgot something so obvious.

“I guess chess is my most favored hobby. It’s been so long since I’ve played it I almost forgot about it.”

She looked at him with casual interest in her eyes, waiting for him to continue, apparently. Okay, what could he tell her about it...?

“It’s something I’ve learnt with my sister. Or more like, she made me learn so she could beat me at it again and again...,” he added with a slight annoyance mixed with a fair amount of nostalgia. “Until one day I finally beat her at it. One of the greatest day of my young life.”

She gave a breathy chuckle, continuing eating her meal, and it was at this moment a guard poked his head in and said:

“I brought what you asked, Herald. Already tasted.”

She put down her plate, gave a pat on the man’s shoulder and took what he had in her hands, bringing it on the desk. There was a strong smell of alcohol and spices that suddenly filled up the tent. It was two mugs filled up with hot wine, or rather mulled wine, the scent was unmistakable. The sweetness and warmth of the liquid in his hands brought him back to happier days of winter.... And he had no idea when was the last time there was such days to taste this drink. 

“Mulled wine. It’s been ages. Did you make this as well? I must thank you again.”

She grinned, and it looked surprisingly earnest compared to her usual smile.

For a second, the sweet smell embraced his tired mind. He realized he nearly nodded off. He looked up and saw the amused face of the Herald, and he coughed to hide the heat gaining on his face. But the breathy chuckle she made did not mistake on what she saw. 

He had to admit that he did not expect the Herald to be of good company. He only ever saw her on guard, even when she appeared relaxed. Her thin hand-axe was never far from her reach and there was always a sharp look that she always took care to hide with her bangs and her enigmatic smiles. 

He saw glimpse of her terrifying resilience and lethality while she fought in the pit of the Temple’s ruins. Demons being slashed left and right, and the thing that he carved unwillingly into his memory was the wicked grin she had showed when the pride demon showed itself. He remembered heard no once that some warriors on the battlefield could harbor such expressions when the rush of adrenaline replaced the fear with unbridled excitement. They looked for the thrill, like their very own drug. Although he was unsure if Ash was a seeker of conflict to get this thrill, a part of him was certain she was one to welcome it, and embrace it, revel in it. He knew that because for a time... he was the same. Although he couldn’t remember a precise time for it, he was pretty sure it started during the Fifth Blight. 

He repressed a shiver and casually shut down the usual way his guts churned at the memory. He’d need another shot before going to sleep. Even spacing the doses and plunging himself into work did not do much in the Need. 

Maybe he still was the same eventoday. Which was why he couldn’t trust her. Not completely. Because if he couldn’t trust himself to not have those pulsions, he wasn’t going to be sure about her either. And then there was moments, seconds, blinks in time where he would see her looking at someone when she easily showed her displeasure at them and an aura of pure danger, nearing the killing intent, would exude from her. And then it was gone at the blink of an eye. 

She was fearsome, but sometimes her easy-going attitude would make you forget that easily. And thus, Cullen was very much wary of her.

They finished their meals in silence while Cullen was reading a report carefully placed away from his plate so there wouldn’t be smudges all over it. He noticed he finished only when Ash reached for it and gathered the empty plates on a side of the tent. She brought her stool in front of his desk and started to rummage into the piles of documents. 

“Oh, there’s no need to help me with that,” Cullen said while putting his hand up. “I appreciate the thought, Ashera, and I know it looks like a mess, but I can find my way through it.”

She cocked her a head on a side, her yellow eyes almost glowing with curiosity with a slight frown. She reached for her notebook.

_Why so much?_

“I need as many information as I can on the Hinterlands to prepare for your outing there,” he sighed. “Sister Nigtingale took care of the most of it, but it must be organized, scouts must be sent, and contact established with the locals... It’s a war zone, Ashera. We need to prepare accordingly. If I miss anything, forget anything, it can tip the balance on the wrong side.”

She stared at him and seemed to be thinking before she wrote again:

_Yes it’s war zone. But in war, you can’t control everything. Unpredictable and changing. Preparing is good. But adapting with what you have is good too._

He sighed again.

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. But preparing is always something I was good at. So if you don’t mind, I’ll keep doing that.”

He smiled wryly when she clicked her tongue in clear disapproval. She shook her head but her enigmatic smile was back on. She was not going to insist further. She wrote one last thing in her notebook.

_Keep at it then. I’ll take care of the adapting._

Then she signed something that was an ample and relaxed two-handed gesture. She then said with her hoarse whispering voice what the sign clearly meant:

“ _Rest._ ”

“I’ll try,” he chuckled. “Good night, Ashera. Thank you again for the meal. It was delicious.” She smiled and nodded before disappearing outside with the two plates and a wave with her mug of mulled wine. His was full but still warm. He would finish sipping it, while keeping looking at those reports. He felt at ease though. Mulled wine would do that to you, he supposed.


	12. Meeting : Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lace Harding in the Hinterlands meeting with Ash messing around with her translator.

## 12 : Meeting : Lace

The Herald’s party arrived precisely three days after the scout from Haven announced them. Punctuality, check. Took them a while to dispatch them but still! 

The Herald was tall. Human woman, scarred everywhere, messy brown hair, so messy she wondered if she could see with all the wind coming slapping her bangs on her eyes, although sporting a serene smile even with all this chaos. Discret movements and presence, definitely a rogue. Nice curves too. Fit, but still good solid hips... 

Bad Harding, focus on the task! 

Now that she noticed, the bald elf next to her was almost as tall as her which was rare. Plus he was a mage, if you counted the staff slung across his back. Nice shoulders. He tried to hide it with the pelt, but it’s no use: when you were in the army, and you’re looking for a specific kind of fun with a willing sister-of-arms, if you wanted to guess what was beneath the layers of armor, you had to train your eye. Poor guy only had a slouch on his staff and a coat. In his defense, the untrained eye would’ve guessed he was just “Tall For An Elf”. Heh. Probably what he aimed at. Sure, why not. Must be the mysterious and apparently very self-conscious Solas. Seemed like he was more knowledgeable than most of the Circle Mages that hung out at Haven, or that’s what she heard from the gossip. 

The dwarf accompanying them had no beard but chest hair out of this world and he exposed it as if he had painted a red target on his torso just for the point of showing how amazing the chest hair was -even her had to admit, it was impressive, but not as much as the very statement of it. With the way he was dressed? Yep, definitely wanted to make a point! Plus a crossbow that Lace had always been intrigued to see in action and had only heard the craziest shit about it. The legendary Varric Tethras. His reputation of author preceded the reputation of his daring pilosity nearly just as much! Last but certainly not least, making even her faithful scouting heart swoon, tall, proud, determined, straight-forward, -and sadly, her straight equally measured by her forward- Seeker Cassandra Penthagast came up to her with a sharp nod but a polite smile nonetheless -which the scar on her cheek giving it a confident aura-, they clasped hands. 

“Well met, Scout Harding. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Seeker Penthagast,” she answered with her prettiest smile and without lying in the least. “Good to see the higher ups in the field. I know my men are glad to see this. Moral and all of that.”

“I can’t blame them,” Cassandra sighed glaring at the black smoke rising in the distance and frowning her nose at the smell coming from the battlefield. “Before we get into the thick of things, may I introduce you to Lady Ashera Cadash, the famous Herald of Andraste. And savior of Haven, “Maker help us all”, was it?” Cassandra added with a smirk, and... -was that sarcasm?

The woman snorted at that, eye rolled at Cassandra -eye rolled at Cassandra Penthagast!- and waved at Lace.

“She’s not a fan of the title,” Varric chuckled. “It’s a blast to tease her with it.”

Ashera stared down at him with a deadpan face and flipped him a bird without batting an eye, enticing a pleased chortle from the dwarf. She glanced at Solas and when he nodded, she turned to her and started to use hand signs, more complex than what she used with her teams.

“Pleased to meet you,” Solas translated. “You may call me Ash. If you call me Herald, I warn you, I might just ignore you.”

“Well I don’t mind calling you Ash, ma’am, but some of our people will struggle with calling you something else than Herald,” she giggled. This was the funniest thing that happened in days she was going to enjoy it!

She signed something with a knowing smirk to Solas, who gave weary sigh. 

“Children... Then screw them, is what she said.” 

Varric straight up cackled, Cassandra rolled her eyes, and Ash winked at the elf, who glared at her.

“Whistle, I confess, the way you can make Solas say curse words because you need a translator simply warms this cynical heart!”

“If you’d be willing to replace me, Master Tethras,” Solas said crisply , “I shall step down from this position with dignity and with trust that you will translate adequately all of Ash’s... flourish.”

“In time, Chuckles. And I’m sure you will! But I will take my time learning because I’m having too much fun right now.”

Ash was silently laughing, shoulders shaking. When Cassandra cleared her throat loudly, the party regained their composure, though Varric and Ash were still glancing at each other with knowing smiles.

“So. What is the situation here, Scout Harding?”

“Bad,” she answered grimly. “Dire even. The fightings between rebel mages and Templars is hitting the locals hard. We need to take the Crossroad back before we can afford any relief effort. Part of the population took refuge further away from the road where most of scuffles happen but we have yet to have a clear idea of where the Templar and the Mages encampments are, so we can’t guarantee the safety of everyone without endangering tremendously our numbers and tactical positions. We have some refugees that hang out near our camps, but this has to be temporary, or we’ll soon become their next target, because those assholes need “supplies”, pardon my Orlesian. We have not been able to reach Redcliffe, there’s too much commotion and the people inside are way too afraid of opening doors to either faction for them to go out, or do we understand from their silence. Which will soon be an issue to them, by the way. Again, because of supplies. Because most of them pass through here. The Crossroad is downhill from here so if you decide to go clean this mess up, we can give you cover shots and heads up. Just tell me when you’re ready to go. Right now, Templar’s and Mages are fighting over what resources remain in the crossroad but they’re not at their full numbers so a small and balanced party could put some mayhem in their ranks, if we can call those “ranks”.”

Cassandra nodded then Solas translated for Ash:

“Any rifts we should be aware of?”

“We noticed some of them in the forest southward and in one of the stronghold the Templars were holding along the road. Another one in the ruin of a fort uphill, which has been stopping us from taking the position. We lost some refugees there. But that’s all for the closest ones. We suspect there’s one in front of Redcliffe’s entrance, because it would also explain their la k of response to the situation, but I didn’t risk any of my scouts there yet. I’ll do that as soon as the Crossroad is secured though.”

Cassandra nodded along with Ash. 

“Any news from Mother Giselle?” Cassandra asked.

“Ah yes. We hid her in a house in the hills westward, with some of the injured refugees. She takes care of them with an ex-Enchanter and some of her chantry sisters. If you want to talk to her, one of my scout can guide you there. I have to warn you though, she cooperated with our troops only because we accepted to help her with the injured. She was adamant about that. Don’t think she’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

Ash snapped her fingers in agreement and nodded. She sent Ritts out with them. 

Two hours later they came back with grim faces and Ash went straight to the watchpoint to get an idea of the terrain’s layout with one of the watchers posted there. The arty left to do some recon and have a better idea of the lay of the land, while taking care of the closest and most bothersome rifts. As the evening came upon them, Ash proposed her strategy.

“Here is how I see it,” Solas translated. “Cassandra, stop me if I say stupid things. Two teams. A small one, and a big one. Big one would be with your men, attracting attention. Our party will flank them, get rid of the weakest and the leaders. They don’t have enough cohesion to stay organized without them. Cover shots will try to take them down if possible. Killing them is good but for now, making them run will be better. Once Inquisition’s position settled they won’t dare to attack.”

“They’ll most likely come in waves,” Lace warned. “Dunno if my men can hold that long.” 

Ash made circling motions with her indexes around themselves. Lace frowned.

“Rotations..., right?” 

She snapped her fingers in confirmation. 

“I don’t think we are enough for that...”

Ash nodded and she continued signing, Solas translating almost effortlessly now.

“We talked to Corporal Vale, whose camp is further west on the road, he can lend us some of his recruits for that.”

“That’s... actually pretty amazing, I had a hard time trying to convince him...”

Ash snorted then signed, looking at Solas as he translated with a tired chuckle:

“We did some errands for him. Cleaned up a bit of the fighters on the way, explored a bit.” 

“Well, glad to hear that. Tomorrow, first lights, we go?”

“ _We go_ ,” Ash whispered with her hoarse breath and a smile. She looked at Cassandra who’s been staring at the map of the Crossroad. 

“Risky but simple. And simple is what we need at the moment. We must send word to Corporal Vale for a meetup before dawn. And I think we are set.”

“Alright. I’ll send someone tonight. Good job, ma’am. Have to admit, you all were Maker-send, even if you don’t like it. We really needed that push.”

Ash seemed displeased by the name Lace used but she chuckled:

“Hey, that’s the most harmless one I got and I need my hierarchy at work. I’ll call you Ash when we’re drinking at the same table in a tavern.”

She looked nonplussed then gave her a crooked smile and extended her right hand for her to shake it, while whispering:

“ _Deal._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lace is precious. And in the sad club of sighing randomly to the sky: “why Cassandra Penthagast isn’t gay...”


End file.
